


TeenFly 01 - Camaro

by mystictimelord



Series: TeenFly 'verse [1]
Category: Firefly, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Crossover, M/M, Slow Build Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-03
Updated: 2014-07-18
Packaged: 2018-01-21 18:32:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 19,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1559993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mystictimelord/pseuds/mystictimelord
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Let’s see… You’ve seen Dobson, …” Isaac points towards him.<br/>Scott drove a dolly/truck on a ramp past them. There was a big metallic box on it, with many dials and readouts on it.<br/>“Please be careful with that!” a young man ordered calmly.<br/>“…That’s Jackson,” Isaac continued. “Jackson, this is our captain,” he told him, pointing at Derek.<br/>“Captain Hale,” Jackson muttered out and walked in the cargo bay.<br/>“Welcome aboard,” Derek said to him. Turning to Isaac, he asked: “Any more passengers?”<br/>“Yeah, two more!” Isaac continued. “There’s Deaton, a Sheppard -”<br/>“A Sheppard?” Derek asked again.<br/>“He paid more than necessary, so I let him onboard!” Isaac explained.<br/>“OK,” Derek replied. “So that’s three. Any more passengers or…?”<br/>And as if on cue, a young man tripped in the cargo bay and fell flat on his face. Needless to say, it hurt just to watch. Erica couldn’t help herself and started laughing hysterically.<br/>“That,” Isaac points at the man on the floor, “is Stiles.”<br/><i>Oh crap</i>, Derek started thinking to himself. <i>A klutz. On my ship.</i></p>
<p>A.k.a.: Teen Wolf characters in a Firefly universe; pilot episode.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Camaro Valley, Hera, 2511

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Teen Wolf belongs to MTV, Firefly belongs to Fox, so basically, I own only this crossover idea (I think).
> 
> Because this is my first published work, I would like to see your response, so please, by all means, comment, like, share, anything really, as long as it's constructive (please, no flames)!

A war was going on. There was a constant reminder for it in form of a smell; smoke, blood, burning flesh and gunpowder, to only name a few. For humans, that was more than nasty; imagine what it would do to werewolves. But not just the smells; the noise, the constant flashes of light as things exploded. It was more than overwhelming.

Many people were dying on both sides; Triskeliates, were barely holding off the obvious superior power of their opponents, the Hunters, as they nicknamed the opposing fronts of this war.

Derek was just behind his uncle, Peter, as they were running back to their makeshift barricade. Altogether, there were six of them; Derek, Peter, Graydon, Bendis and two other soldiers that Derek didn’t know their names of. Once there, they heard Graydon yelling at them.

“Sergeant! Command says air support is holding ‘til they can assess our status!”

“Our status is,” Derek angrily replied, ”that we need some gorramn air support!”

“That skiff sure is shredding us,” Peter commented on the current condition.

Graydon continued: “They won’t move without a lieutenant’s authorization code, sir-”

Derek started looking around, until he found a dead lieutenant. He ripped his rank symbol and handed it to Grayson.

“That’s your code,” Derek shouted. “You’re lieutenant Baker, congratulations on your promotion, now get me some air support!”

He turned to the soldiers he didn’t know their names of.

“Pull back just far enough to wedge ‘em in here,” Derek said to one of them. Turning to the other, he said: “Get your squad to the high ground, you pick ‘em off.”

“High ground’s death with that skiff in the air,” Peter stated with a hint of worry.

“That’s our problem,” Derek replied, “and thank you for volunteering.”

Now he turned to Bendis, who was probably heavily traumatized by now, judging by how he was staring into nothing. The smell was also a good pointer, even though his werewolf senses have dulled during these seven weeks the in the war in Camaro Valley on planet Hera.

“Bendis,” Derek called out to him, “you give us cover, we’re doin’ some huntin’!”

Which would be working fine and great, if it weren’t for the sudden appearance of a dead soldier in their midst; it was one of those two he didn’t know their names of. The death was obvious, what with his heart not beating. Noticing that Bendis might experience a catatonic shock and collapse any moment now, he yelled “Just focus!” at them all.

“The Hunters said that they were gonna waltz through Camaro Valley and we’ve chocked ‘em with those words,” he continued. “We’ve done the impossible, and that makes us mighty. Just a little longer, our angels ’ll be soaring overhead, raining fire on those  arrogant cods, so you hold.”

Seeing that he received no response, he added: “You HOLD!”

Now that set them in a mood, if the cheers were anything to go by, so Derek just gave them a “GO!”

That only left him, Peter, and Bendis in there.

“Do you really think we can bring ‘em down?” Peter chuckled in disbelief. He knew that his nephew could be a good spokesman, but he could always tell whether he meant it or if he just said it to boost their morale.

This was just a morale booster.

“Do you even need to ask?” Derek replied to his uncle’s rhetorical question. From a chain on his neck, he kissed a small silver cross, then tucked it back where it came from.  He heard his uncle cock his gun. “Ready?”

“Always,” his uncle smirked. “Bendis?”

Apparently, he already fell in the catatonic shock.

“Gorramn it, Bendis!” Peter hissed as he aimed his machine gun at the battlefield, firing a couple of bullets. Derek took that chance and walked out, firing a couple of rounds himself, Peter close behind him.

They were slowly approaching their goal: an anti-aircraft gun. On their way there, they shot three Hunter troopers; one each, the one that was left was punched to the ground by them both and had pullets fired in his gut, courtesy of Peter. With the skiff nearing, they throw themselves in the closest trench.

They’ve done that just in time to avoid the skiff’s fires that were just shot.

That’s when Derek noticed a soldier next to the anti-aircraft gun. He aimed, fired and missed with his first shot, which caused the soldier to retaliate. But that didn’t stop him; he aimed again, and this time, it was a clear headshot!

Now that they had a clear path to the gun, they made a run for it, but it was Derek who got there first, so it was him who got to shoot the skiff down, and it was up to his uncle to make sure no-one was firing at them.

Which left Derek to one thing: firing that skiff down. He fiddled a bit with the buttons and dials, making the gun whirr and click, until the said gun whirred to life and showed the skiff in infravision. It took him a couple more seconds to lock on the skiff and fired when he did. The skiff exploded, fragments flying everywhere.

A massive chunk of that exploding skiff was flying in their direction. As soon as Derek noticed it, he shouted a “Look out!” to his uncle, but apparently his uncle was temporarily deafened by the explosion. The chunk hit the ground next to Peter, but that didn’t prevent the flaming explosion that occurred on the impact.

He was on fire. Peter Hale was on fire.

He ran to his uncle and tried his best to put out the fire, but Peter was already wailing in agony. Luckily, they put out the fire, but his uncle was in no condition to move on his own. He had no choice but to move him back to their base, even though he had to stop occasionally to shoot back at the Hunter troopers.

Once they reached their makeshift base, he noticed Bendis by the radio. He noticed that he was looking towards his uncle, so once Derek put Peter down as soon as he could and walked up to Bendis, who looked like he would fall in a catatonic shock again.

“Listen to me,” Derek commanded. “Look at me! Listen, we’re holding this valley, no matter what.”

“We’re gonna die …” Bendis stuttered silently.

“We’re not gonna die! We can’t die!” Derek snapped at him. “And do you know why?”

He waited for a moment, before he continued: “Because we’re so. Very. Handsome. We’re just too handsome for God to let us die.”

He now grabbed Bendis by his jaw, if not a bit rougher than necessary. “Look at that chiseled jaw, c’mon!”

“I’m sorry,” was all that Bendis could stammer out.

After a couple of moments, Derek heard aircraft engines. That only meant one thing: the reinforcements.

“Don’t listen to me,” Derek remarked and pointed at the sky. “Listen to that! That’s our angels, coming to blow the Hunters right to the depths of hell they came from.”

He looks at Bendis and the expression of hope is smearing on both of their faces.

“Now, Benids, tell the 82nd to-”

“They’re not coming,” Bendis cut in. The previous hints of hope disappeared way faster than it appeared, the smell of fear-induced adrenaline back in full swing. As he was lowering the radio, he added: “Command says it’s too hot. They’re pulling out. We’re to lay down arms.”

Derek couldn’t process it, if “But…What…” was anything to go by.

He was thrown back into reality when he heard his uncle’s wail of pain. He immediately kneeled next to him and started doing what his kind has done best; taking the pain away.

How he could’ve forgotten about his uncle escapes his mind. He focuses on the slightly tricky process of pain-withdrawal, his veins turning black, taking as much as he could handle. Which wasn’t much, but sometimes small things could make a big difference.

After he’s done, he checks around, only to find out that Bendis was shot in the head.

Now Derek and his uncle were the only survivors of their platoon of 2000. That platoon was just one of many, composing of 200,000 Triskeliates. Derek was originally going to lead a small platoon of 150, and look where they were now.

They’ve survived, but they’ve lost.


	2. Space, 2517 (a.k.a.: Six years later)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Firefly by Fox, Teen Wolf by MTV, and this crossover idea by me (does it count?).
> 
> Thank you for your response (7 kudos on my first fanfic, thank you so much!)
> 
> To fanoftheceiling: Thank you for your comment; it's very helpful. To be honest, I've downloaded Firefly scripts and I'm basically using it as a crutch. I'll do my best to avoid using 'em so much. As for Stiles: I originally meant for him to take River's place, but that didn't work out (because of reasons). Your idea of placing Stiles in Inara's place is as intriguing to me as it is to you (Stiles as a companion? Are you trying to kill me? How can I even process such a great idea?), but that would mean that there would be already some form of a relationship between him and Derek, and I just want to show you guys how their relationship evolves. It's OK though, I have a plan for him! ;D

Derek is floating at the shipwreck’s solid iron door that leads to a storage unit.  Accompanied by Erica and Boyd, he was not alone. The only thing that they heard was the heavy breathing through the com-link.

“Pass me the glue gun,” was what Derek said to Boyd. He passed him a gun-looking thing. He applied it on the door, a thin electricity-conducting wire in the center of the gel. Once he finished making a circle out of the gel, he put clamps on both ends of the wire, which he hooked up on a small device. Once hooked up, he pressed the button.

Now he just watched the current passing through the wire, making the gel highly acidic. The acid started eating through the iron door. Now, they can only wait for the acid to do its thing.

Meanwhile, Camaro Bridge

Scott was sitting in the cockpit, tapping his nails against the solid surface of the pilot’s desktop, changing them from normal, to werewolf claws, and back to normal.

Lycantrophy in space is not so much of a problem. They couldn’t get out of control, as they normally would on Earth-That-Was; it was the Moon that caused control-loss in the first place. Nobody really knew why, but since the Great Evacuation of Earth, there was no record of wolf-attacks (unless there were actual wolves involved). Even though some planets have moons of their own (some of those moons even inhabited!), there was no wolf-out ever known to the mankind.

But that didn’t mean that they couldn’t lose control. On the contrary; it‘s easier for them to lose their control. In outer space, for instance, they could feel trapped if they stay in a spaceship for too long, which, in turn, makes them more aggressive. Given their heightened senses, they could be driven mad simply by engines or electronic gadgetry; they tend to give away sounds that can be easily picked up by werewolves’ hearing.

So you can imagine how startled Scott was when of the sudden, a light starts flashing and beeping like an Armageddon was about to happen.

That only meant one thing.

Hunters.

“Oh, cra-“

Space

A piece of iron door flies out. Boyd catches that piece before it managed to pierce through his helmet. As they looked at the door, they noticed steam.

“Full pressure,” he hears from Erica. “The goods might still be intact!”

“Assuming they’re still there” Derek mumbled, but he knew they can hear everything through the com-link.

He floats to the door, shoving it away and motions to Boyd to shed some light in there. They saw three heavy-looking air-tight crates.

“Okay,” Derek marveled for a moment. “Looking goo-”

 _“We have a Hunter cruiser incoming!”_ Scott informed via radio. _“I repeat; we have incoming!”_

“ _Ta ma de!_ (Dammit!)” Derek grunted. “Have they spotted us yet?”

_“I can’t tell if-”_

“Have they hailed us?”

“If they’re here for the salvage, we’re humped” Boyd pointed out.

“That ship’s been derelict for months,” Erica snapped. “Why would the-”

“ _Bizui!_ (Shut up!)” Derek ordered the bickering couple. “Scott, shut it down. Everything but the air!”

Camaro

“Shutting down!” Scott exclaimed. He flipped a couple of switches, making some of the lights go off. That only left him with the engine.

“Isaac!” he yelled over the radio. “Black out! We’re being buzzed!”

 _“Shi’a!_ (Affirmative!) _”_ Isaac responded over the radio. He flips some of the switches in the engine room. With most of the switches off and an engine slowly dying, he climbed on the engine and pulled the last lever. That effectively killed all the power on Camaro.

“Great,” he realized. “ _Now_ how will I get down from here?”

Space

“Scott?” Derek asked. “Where’s the Howler?”

 _“Right where we left it,”_ he replied. _“You want it to howl?”_

“Not yet. Are they slowing down?”

_“Negative. Don’t think we interest them. I give ‘em two minutes before they give up.”_

“All right. If they heat-scan us, you tell us immediately.”

_“Shi’a.”_

Now the only thing they can do is to wait for the Hunter vessel to float away.

I.H.V. Dortmunder’s bridge (The Hunter vessel)

“What am I looking at?” the captain inquired.

“It’s a carrier,” one of his subordinates replied. “Blew out a few months back. No survivors, but it was only run by a skeleton crew anyway.”

The same man also broadcasted a more detailed picture of the wreckage in 3-D. It showed the ship, or whatever was there left of it.

“Damn shame,” captain responded in a few moments. “No point in checking for survivors or…?”

“Locals swept in right after.”

That really hit his metaphorical home. There is only one thing they can do now.

“Crew,” the captain commanded while taking his hat off. “A moment of silence, if you please. Passing a graveyard.”

The others pulled off their hats like their captain has.

In a minute’s time, some other subordinate told the captain what he discovered.

“There was a reading on that thing: some residual heat. What are your orders?”

“Do a sweep.”

Camaro

Another alarm sounded that startled Scott for a moment before he realized what was going on.

Hunters were doing a heat sweep.

 _“Aiya! Huaile!_ (Something’s wrong!), _”_ he hissed before grabbing the radio and said: “Captain! We’re being heat-sweeped!”

 _“Fire it up! Now!”_ Derek ordered over the radio.

Space

Now he turned to Boyd and Erica and commanded a “We move those in, double time!” over the com-link.

They float to the crates, one for each of them, and they carried them, which wasn’t so hard, given that they were in a zero-g environment.

Camaro

“Isaac, fire it up!” Scott ordered over the radio.

 _“I’m all over it!”_ was the response. “If I can just find that damn…”

He found the right switch, but he pressed a bit too hard, sending him falling hard to the ground. Needless to say; even for a werewolf, that hurt.

Space, Camaro’s airlock

They got there safely. Once in the airlock, Derek pressed a button that shut the airlock from the outer space. Confident enough, he pressed another button, which sent in the air, and restored the gravity, sending the crates to the ground with an audible thud.

“Scott!” Derek ordered via com-link. “We’re on! Go!”

 _“Everybody, hang on!”_ Scott warned over the radio before he set the ship in motion. His eyes were probably glowing amber-yellow by now. No-one in their right mind would want to disturb him while flying. He was in the zone.

“Let’s moon ‘em!” Boyd said as soon as he managed to pull his helmet off.

The ship’s back started to glow like a firefly’s light. It fires away from Dortmunder.

I.H.V. Dortmunder

Someone noticed a small vessel detach itself from the wreckage. The vessel was buglike, patched together and rusted in parts – everything Dortmunder wasn’t, really (which was like a big floating space city. It takes five years to build a vessel of Dortmunder’s size, so needless to say, it was huge!).

“What the hell?” the captain inquired as he saw it on screen.

“It’s a transport ship,” someone reported. “Firefly class.”

“Do they still make those?” a man next to him asks.

Firefly class ships are quite rare to come by; they stopped producing them a long time ago and were therefore considered an outdated model. However, people owning Firefly vessels know that ships of this class are practical and relatively easy to maintain, which was one of the reasons why they buy ‘em in first place.

“Illegal salvage,” captain grunted under his breath. “Lowlife vultures, picking the flesh off the dead.”

“Should we deploy gunships, sir?”

“Do it.”

Camaro

“Scott,” Derek orders, “activate the howler!”

_“Activating and… up and running!”_

I.H.V. Dortmunder

“Captain, I’m picking up a distress signal,” a woman responds. “Thirteen clicks ahead, from a …Sounds like a personnel carrier…”

The captain couldn’t believe his ears, if his baffled expression was anything to go by.

“Definitely a big ship, sir,” the woman continued. “And she’s without power.”

“Gunships could never get to us back in time anyways.” captain mumbled out audibly. “Let’s go help those people!”

Turning back, he added: “Put a bulletin out on the Cortex and flag Interpol: a Firefly with possibly stolen goods aboard.”

“Maybe someone ‘ll step on those roaches,” he adds as an afterthought.

Camaro

 _“It looks okay, Captain! They’re not – I repeat – NOT coming about”_ Scott informed on the current status.

“Close one.” Erica exhaled in relief.

“As long as those crates aren’t empty,” Boyd added, “I call this a win.”

Derek thinks for a moment before agreeing.

“Right. We win.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I believe it's fair to notify you that I might not be able to post as frequently as I'd like, so don't be surprised if it takes a month for a new chapter or if I manage to magically post 6 chapters in a day.
> 
> Also, I'd like to rename this story, because "TeenWold 01: Camaro" doesn't seem like a good chapter name. So if you have any ideas on a new name for this part, don't be shy and propose one!


	3. Cargo hold

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Say hi to my 3rd chapter. As always, feel free to comment, like, point out flaws of any kind and provide me with some ideas (still looking for a better story name; any ideas anyone?) etc.

Derek opens one of the crates with his own claws. It took some strength, but it opened, and that’s what matters now. Next to him, some of the crew are waiting to see what’s inside those crates. Or at least that one crate.

“Here we go!” he exclaimed as the lid fell off.

Everyone held their breath as they saw what it was. It looked like golden bars.

“Nice!” Isaac comments, obviously happy about their achievment.

“Worth the risk,” Scott adds.

“Yeah, it was sooo risky for you,” Erica pointed out to Scott, “because sitting in a cushioned seat is sooo dangerous!”

“At least they wouldn’t arrest me if we were boarded,” Scott pointed out to her, “because I could always say ‘I’m a pilot, I was flying this ship by acci-‘”

_“Bizui!”_ Derek ordered harshly, his red eyes glowing for a moment. That effectively shut them up. He’s not going to tolerate any kind of bickering on his ship, if he can help it.

“What’s the matter, Captain?” Erica asks. She noticed one of the infamous Derek’s Eyebrow MovementTM. This one was No6 – the ‘Oh crap, this is bad’ eyebrow raise.

Tossing one of the golden bricks to Erica, he said: “They’re marked. We won’t be able to sell them, because no-one likes marked goods.”

“Isn’t that the Hunters’ mark?” Isacc asks, pointing at the mark on the bar. Everyone took a closer look at it and came to the same conclusion.

“Best if we get rid of these before we run into Hunter patrol or somethin’,” Scott stated as a matter-of-fact.

“Wow, Scott!” Erica exclaims dramatically. “Nothing escapes your werewolf senses, now, does it?”

“How long until we reach Persephone?” Derek cuts in before there could be any kind of Erica/Scott showdown. Nobody liked fights of any kind on their ship.

“Three, maybe four hours,” Scott said with a hint of uncertainty. That earned him a questioning look.

“Any way we can get there sooner?”

“Not unless you’d like to burn alive before we’d even start.”

“The sooner, the better, Scott! I don’t like the cargo.”

Now it was Erica that gave him a questioning look.

“You think that cruiser I.D.d us?” she asked.

“Hope not,” he answered. “Tell you what, let’s contact Badger and tell him the job’s done, so we can get paid.”

“You sure there’s nothing wrong with the cargo?” Boyd inquired.

“Yeah,” he answered, a bit distant at the moment. “Sure. Erica, help Boyd with the crates. You better put them away. We don’t want anytourists tripping over them.”

“We’re taking passengers on Persephone?” Isaac beamed.

“That’s the plan,” Derek explained. “We could use our ship as a makeshift cruise ship to Boros. We could really use some money.”

“Oh, not again!” Boyd groaned.

“What’s wrong with meeting new people?” Isaac asked him. “It’s great! They always have stories to tell …” You could literally see sparkles in his eyes; he was so happy about it.

“Can we do something about his cheerfulness?” Erica asked with an annoyed tone. “It always gets on my nerves!”

“It always gets on our nerves,” Derek answered with a grin. Everyone knew he didn’t really mean it; everyone liked his happiness (Erica and Boyd are exception, for some reason). It was contagious.

* * *

Scott and Isaac were walking towards the cockpit.

“Something’s not right,” Isaac commented.

That earned him a chuckle from Scott, who replied: “We’re swindlers, honey. If everything was right, we’d be in jail now!”

“I know,” Isaac said, “it’s just, Derek seems so tense because of those crates …”

“He just needs a break,” Scott insisted. “In fact …” he brought Isaac closer, grabbing him gently by his hips, “we could all use couple days’ leave.”

“You do know we’ve got to drop the goods, right?”

“Yeah, I do. Once we do, however, we’ll fly to Boros, rich and prosperous.”

That earned him a questioning look from Isaac.

“Well, less poor, anyway,” Scott continued. “Yet enough to find a little getaway of our own.”

“Wouldn’t mind a real bath,” Isaac agreed. He let his forehead rest on Scott’s. Their lips are very close now, but not kissing. Not yet, at least.

“And a solid hot meal, unlike the stuff we eat,” Scott half-whispered in a sleepy tone. “Just a couple of days, you and I lying around … You’d be bathing … I’d watch you bathe …”

If you live on a spaceship and your only source of income depends mostly on high-paying illegal jobs (despite doing some legal ones as well), you’re bound to save some money in case of emergencies, or to afford the luxuries, such as a bath or solid meals.

The luxuries are very hard to come by on the Rim planets, so you were considered lucky if you had them, and very generous if you shared it with others, but foolish if you denied them.

“Only if Derek says it’s ok,” Isaac reminds him.

“But what if we just told him we need a few days off instead of asking him?” Scott asked.

“But he’s the captain!”

“Yeah, and I’m just your boyfriend.”

Scott sits down in his pilot’s seat and looks at Isaac. He’s giving him a disapproving look.

“Fine, I’ll ask him, ok?” he huffs out.

“Ask whom what?” Derek asked as he entered the cockpit.

They were both startled by his sudden appearance, but neither one said a thing. There was a short silence.

“Nevermind,” Derek mumbled out. “Has our Ambassador checked in yet?”

“Not yet,” Scott answered, “but I could tell her to hurry up and meet us at the docks.”

“No, no! Don’t wanna get in her way.” Derek remarked. “I mean, someone on this boat’s gotta make an honest living.”

Allison’s shuttle, Persephone

Allison was talking with her client, a young man, over a cup of tea after a love-making session. He asked her about her planet of origin.

“Sihnon isn’t that different from Persephone,” she told him. “It’s more crowded, obviously, also more complicated. The great city itself … Let’s just say that pictures can’t capture it. Like an ocean of light.”

“I can’t imagine ever leaving,” the man replied.

“I guess I wanted to see the universe.”

“Was it hard?” he asked. “I mean, your training as a Companion.”

The thing about Companion training was that you don’t start with Companion material. First, you must master religious studies, arts and physical discipline. Only if they successfully pass the tests, they get accepted to the next level – training in the arts of love.

“I struggled with language and music, at first,” she answered. “But I was always good with archery. Always the top of my class there.”

“Well, you play beautifully, and your linguistics are perfect,” he commented on her skills.

“Thank you.”

* * *

After waving off her client goodbye, she sits down on the pilot’s seat, flips a switch and hails her ship.

“Camaro, this is Shuttle One, what’s your ETA?” she asks.

_“Hey, Allison!”_ Scott replies over the radio. _“We’ll be touching down at the Eavesdown docks in ‘bout 10 minutes.”_

“I’ll see you there!”

_“Looking forward to it. We missed you here.”_

“Yeah, me too.”

And with those words, she launches her shuttle to Eavesdown docks.


	4. Camaro, Eavesdown Docks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to thank my beta-reader, Anny, for, you know, beta-reading.

Camaro was landing down on the largest spaceport on Persephone – the Eavesdown docks. It took some time to find an empty spot because the docks were huge! But because Camaro is a small ship, it was a bit easier.

The docks are like a bustling bazaar, with every ship selling goods or getting passengers. They are filled with people of various races, speaking various languages, with English and Mandarin being dominant.

As soon as they landed, the airlock opened and the crew stepped out. Derek is wearing his slightly-worn-out Henley, that was snug against his body-frame. Needless to say, it fit him well.

“This shouldn’t take too long,” he explained to Isaac. “Put us down for departure in about three hours from now.”

“Scott,” Derek added, turning to him, “fuel her up and grab any supplies we’re low on, _dong ma_ (do you understand/understood)?”

Isaac, meanwhile, moved to the computerized placard in front of their ‘parking space’ and started entering the required data to get the passengers:

Destination: BOROS

Max. capacity: 12

Departure: 1500

“I think it would be great if we bought a brand new compression coil for the steamer,” Isaac points out to Derek, who was standing next to him.

“And I’d like to own the ‘verse and have all the gold there is,” Derek replies a bit mockingly. “Just focus on getting us some passengers, alright? You know, the ones that can pay.”

“Not with the current condition on the compression coil,” Isaac states. “If it busts, we’re drifting.”

“Then don’t bust it!” Derek answers back, a bit playfully, if the grin on his face is anything to go by.

Derek, Erica and Boyd prepared themselves for their meeting with the Badger. He provided them with an occasional job, which was always illegal, but the money was worth the sweat, blood and tears.

“Derek !” Scott shouted towards him. “ _Zhu yi_ (watch your back), will you?”

“We will, Scott,” he assured him as they left the premises of Camaro.

* * *

A man in his mid-thirties is walking through the crowd. Dark skin tone, weathered, worldly, with eyes that expressed both knowledge and kindness. He’s dragging a few boxes and suitcases on a wheeled papoose and carries another suitcase in his hand. His clothes are plain, identifying him as a protestant catholic, or even a druid of an orthodox kind.

As he was moving on, some other man approaches him.

“You goin’ on a trip, sir? We’re safe, cheap and clean, the Brutus is the best ship in the ‘verse. What’s your des, sir? We’re hittin’ the outer rings -”

“Not interested.”

“What?”

“I said ‘not interested.” What he really meant was that the ship looked like it was going to fall apart at any moment. Let’s just say that he knows a quality ship when he sees one.

After a while, he finds a ship that looks up to his standards – a Firefly.

“You’re coming with us,” a young man states.

“Excuse me?”

“I’ve noticed you like ships. You don’t seem to look at the destinations and only care about the ships. And guess what,” the man points at a Firefly with his thumb, “mine’s the nicest.”

He checks the ship out and replies with a “She doesn’t look like much.”

“Oh, she’ll fool you,” the young man answers back. “But, let me ask you this: have you ever sailed a Firefly?”

“Before you were born,” he responds. It was quite a long time since he sailed in one of them, a very long time ago. “Didn’t have the extenders, though. Tended to shake a lot.”

“You wanna shake, sail the Paragon over there. You’ll barf before you break atmo, guaranteed.”

He had to admit, this kid knows his ships. “That Gurtser engine’s always gonna be twitchy on you, gotta admit that. Are they still using trace compression blocks?”

“Until they make something better.”

There was a short pause between them. Then the man asks him: “How come you don’t care where you’re going?”

“’Cause how you get there is more important than the destination alone.”

“Are you a missionary?”

“Well, you could say so,” he replied with all honesty. “I’m a Sheppard, from Beacon Hills. They call me Deaton.”

“Well, Deaton,” the man responded, “I’m Isaac,” pointing at himself, “and this is Camaro,” pointing at the Firefly, “the smoothest ride to Boros. But the question I have for you is …” There was a couple of moments’ worth of silence. “Can you pay?”

“I believe we could come to terms,” Deaton replied. “I’ve got a little cash, and, uh, …”

He pulled out a small box for Isaac. He opened the lid, and, if his face was anything to go by, he was more than impressed.

Badger’s “lair”, Eavesdown docks

Derek, Boyd and Erica were in the Badger’s “lair”. The place itself was not too large, and kind of dingy. They could hear the traffic above them without their super-senses, but with them, the noise was intensified multifold. It’s nothing, really; the werewolves managed to suppress portions of their senses, so they wouldn’t be overwhelmed.

When they saw the Badger, he was busy with someone else at the moment.

“Show me your teeth,” he said to the woman standing in front of him. She was held in place by a man, that was probably hired as a bodyguard of his; he has 4 of them. She did as he was told and revealed him her teeth.

Apparently, he was pleased, because he sent her away with a smirk on his face.

It was only then that he noticed the others. The grin fell off as fast as it was put on.

“You’re late.”

“You’re lying,” Derek replied. “You know that we landed two hours ago before we planned to, with all the goods you want intact and ready to be handed over to you. So your decision to say we’re late means that something’s gone wrong, but it didn’t happen on my end. So why don’t you start again with you telling us what’s up?”

“You’re later than I’d like,” he answered.

“Well am _I_ sorry to hear _that_ ,” he responded sarcastically.

Badger looked around for a couple of moments, looking for something, before he continued: “If you’d have gotten here sooner, you might’ve beaten the bulletin,” and showed them the said bulletin, that was projected on what seems like ‘digital paper’. It said that a ‘rogue vessel, classification Firefly, spotted pulling illegal salvage on a derelict transport’.

“They didn’t I.D. us,” Boyd stated, “which means it doesn’t lead to you.”

“No, it doesn’t” Badger agrees, “but the government stamp on every molecule of the cargo might.”

He looked at Derek and studied his face for a moment. He found what he was looking for.

“So you’ve noticed that!” he remarks. “Were you going to hand over the imprinted goods and what, leg it?”

“We didn’t pick the cargo,” Derek replies.

“Yeah, and I didn’t flash my ass to the gorramn law,” he adds sarcastically. “No deal.”

“That’s not fair!” Erica said, disappointment obvious in her voice.

“That’s crime and politics for ya; the situation is always fluid.”

“Only fluid I see here is the puddle of piss refusing to pay us our wage!” she roared in rage as she pointed her gun at him. She immediately regretted her move as she heard and saw the guards’ guns pointed at her.

From the corner of her eye, she saw Derek’s look of disapproval in combination with his Eyebrow MovementTMno23 – the ‘Did you really have to do that?’ one. She understood what it meant; put your gun down.

“What were you in the war?” Badger asked out of the sudden, looking at Derek. “You know, the one you failed to win?”

“A sergeant.”

“Yeah, Sergeant Derek Hale,” Badger continued, “a soldier, man of honor, in my den of thieves.”

He stepped right in front of him, making the height difference even more obvious; Derek was about a head taller than Badger.

“It’s my gorramn den,” he continued, “and I don’t like the way you look down on me. I’m above you, better than. Business man, see?” he asked, pointing at his worn-out three-piece suit. “Roots in the community. While you’re just a scavenger.”

“Maybe I’m not a fancy gentleman like you,” Derek remarks, “but I’m here to do business.”

“Not here you won’t,” Badger replies. “Try the border planets; they’re more desperate there.”

And with those words, he motioned to one of his guards to escort Derek and his crewmembers out.

* * *

“Why didn’t you let me shoot him?” Erica asked Derek, fuming at him in anger.

“Because, if he died, we’d be killed by his guards,” he explained her.

“We can’t get paid if we’re dead,” Boyd added.

Erica wasn’t happy about it, if her grunting was anything to go by.

“It’s OK,” Boyd continued, “we’ll find some other buyer on Boros. I mean there’s gotta be -”

“Boros is too big,” Derek cut in. “Crawling with Hunters. They could be waiting for us.”

“You really think Badger would sell us out?” Erica asked.

While passing a couple of police officers, who were looking around themselves, like they were searching for something. Or someone.

“If he hasn’t already,” Derek answered.

“But if the Hunters catch us with those crates, we lose the ship!” Erica pointed out.

“Never gonna happen,” Boyd replied.

After a couple of seconds of silence between them, Boyd got an idea that probably sounded better in his head.

“What if we dump the crates?”

“Whoa, no way,” Erica exclaimed. “We haven’t had a job for weeks! I didn’t sign up with you guys so we can go sight-seeing, alright?”

She saw their expressions, and they weren’t good. They seemed to express something between ‘shut up!’ and ‘could you be any more obvious about this?’.

“Sorry,” she said silently, “I just want to get paid.”

“You’re right, you know,” Derek told her.

That made both Boyd and Erica stop dead in their tracks.

“The last two jobs were weak,” he continued. “We got nothing out of those jobs, and taking on the passengers won’t help much. Since we won’t get paid for those crates, we won’t have enough money to fuel the ship, let alone keep her in the air.”

“So, what,” Erica asked, “Border planets?”

“I’m thinking of Whitefall,” Derek admitted, “maybe even talk to Patience; see if she’d buy ‘em.”

Boyd and Erica didn’t like the sound of that.

“No,” Erica responded after a while, “no way!”

“Why not?” Derek asked.

“She _did_ shoot you,” Boyd answered instead.

“So?” Derek asked again. “How many people _don’t_ want to shoot us anyway?”

“Let’s find someone else, then,” Boyd replied. “Horowitz?”

“Can’t afford it.”

“Holden boys?”

“Won’t touch ‘em,” Derek answered back. “Let me run down a list for you: Capshaws are brain-blown, Gruviek’s dead,-”

“Whoah, wait a minute!” Erica cut in. “He’s dead? How?”

“Rogues.”

That was all that he needed to say to her.

“That’s why I think we should go to Whitefall,” Derek continued after a couple of moments’ silence. “It’s closest and safest, and it’s been a while since she shot me. It was only because of a perfectly legitimate conflict of interest. I got no grudge against her, and besides, she owns half of that moon, so I believe she can afford what we got, and she might just need it.”

“But still,” Erica said, “Patience? Of all people?”

“You know we don’t have a choice,” Derek responded. “Besides, there’s only one thing that it matters.”

* * *

They were very close to Camaro now. Derek could see some new faces, which made the wolf in him howl in excitement – they’re getting more crewmembers!

There was a man who introduced himself as “Dobson… Thank you…” as Isaac helped him with his luggage.

“Hey, Derek!” Isaac exclaimed, obviously happy to see his captain. “Got us some passengers, as you told me to.”

“How many?”

“Let’s see… You’ve seen Dobson, …” Isaac points towards him.

Scott drove a dolly/truck on a ramp past them. There was a big metallic box on it, with many dials and readouts on it.

“Please be careful with that!” a young man ordered calmly.

“…That’s Jackson,” Isaac continued. “Jackson, this is our captain,” he told him, pointing at Derek.

“Captain Hale,” Jackson muttered out and walked in the cargo bay.

“Welcome aboard,” Derek said to him. Turning to Isaac, he asked: “Any more passengers?”

“Yeah, two more!” Isaac continued. “There’s Deaton, a Sheppard -”

“A Sheppard?” Derek asked again.

“He paid more than necessary, so I let him onboard!” Isaac explained.

“OK,” Derek replied. “So that’s three. Any more passengers or…?”

And as if on cue, a young man tripped in the cargo bay and fell flat on his face. Needless to say, it hurt just to watch. Erica couldn’t help herself and started laughing hysterically.

“That,” Isaac points at the man on the floor, “is Stiles.”

 _Oh crap_ , Derek started thinking to himself. _A klutz. On my ship._

“Why did you let _him_ onboard?” Erica asked, traces of previous laughter almost gone, but still present.

“He paid,and his father, who’s a sheriff by the way, made me promise to keep an eye on him,” Isaac admitted. “Something about ADHD or something.”

 _Well, ain’t that great_ , Derek thought to himself. _A_ hyperactive _klutz by that!_

“Is that all?” Derek asked, feeling a bit hopeless now.

“Yeah, that’s it,” Isaac replied back.

Derek walked in the cargo hold, when Erica said: “A boatload of citizens, right on top of our stolen cargo. That’s a fun mix!”

“There’s no way they could find it,” Derek replied, “even if they were looking for it.”

“Why not?” Boyd asked.

“… because,” was all that came out of Derek.

“Yeah, this is gonna go just fine,” Erica remarked sarcastically.

“If anyone gets nosy,” Derek ordered them, “just, you know, shoot ‘em.”

“Shoot them,” Erica and Boyd repeated.

“You know,” Derek half-whispered, “politely!”

* * *

When Scott returned to the cockpit, he saw a signal flaring. This wasn’t bad news; it was Allison.

“Hey, Allison, just in time!” Scott said through the radio.

 _“Let me guess,”_ Allison replied back, _“we’re in a hurry.”_

“Looks like it,” he answered. “Port hatch green for docking!”

_“Locking in five. Four.”_

After three seconds, she managed to successfully lock the shuttle. The shuttle is now secure.

That left Scott with one thing.

“The Ambassador has returned!” he shouted out to the corridor. Boyd heard that, so he told the captain: “We’ve got a full house!”

“Isaac!” Derek shouted towards the young man, currently standing in the airlock. “Lock it up!”

Isaac looked back at the docks as the airlock was shutting.

“All aboard…” he muttered by himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wanna know what happens next? They join me next Friday (apparently I post these thing on Fridays, so why not).


	5. Dining room, Camaro

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Decided to post earlier than Friday. Enjoy!

“Meals are taken here,” Derek explained to the passengers, “in the dining room. The kitchen is pretty much self explanatory; you’re welcome to eat what there is at any time. By that I mean the pretty standard fare of a sort, proteins in all the colors of the rainbow. We have sit-down meals, the next one being at about 1800 -”

“Sheppard Deaton has offered to help us prepare something,” Isaac cut in, excitement obvious in his facial features.

“So, you’re the Sheppard,” he said to the man, his voice a bit dulled.

“I thought the outfit gave it away,” Deaton replied. “Is it going to be a problem?”

“Of course not!” Isaac exclaimed. Turning to Derek, he added: “It’s not a problem, because …It’s not.”

“As I said,” Derek continued, changing the subject, “you’re welcome to visit the dining area any time. Apart from that, I have to ask you to stay in the passenger dorm. Bridge, engine room and cargo bay are off limits without an escort.”

“But I’ve got most of my stuff in the cargo bay!” Stiles stated.

“Figured you all got luggage,” Derek remarked. “As soon as we’re done here, we’ll be happy to fetch ‘em with you. But I have to inform you all about one thing, and I apologize in advance for the inconvenience.”

After a couple of seconds, he continued: “We’ve been ordered by the Hunters to drop off some medical supplies on Whitefall, the fourth moon on Athens, which is a bit out of our way, but we should have you on Boros in no more than a day off schedule. Is that gonna be all right for everyone?”

There was no disagreement visible or audible.

“What medical supplies?” Jackson asked.

“Honestly, I didn’t ask, so I have no idea” Derek answered.

“But it’s probably plasma, insulin, some drugs,” Boyd added, “whatever they’re lacking on the border moons.”

“You know, when Hunters say jump …” Derek concluded.

“Alright,” Jackson said, apparently liking the answer.

There was a couple of moments’ silence, before Derek said: “Go and pick up your stuff from the cargo bay. Erica, Boyd, go with ‘em.”

Once Boyd, Erica, and the passengers stepped out of the dining room, Derek turned back to Scott and asked him: “Did you send word to Patience?”

“Yes, I have,” he answered, “but I haven’t heard back from her yet.”

“Wait a minute!” Isaac exclaimed out of the sudden. “Patience? Didn’t she shoot you?”

Derek couldn’t believe it. “Everyone’s making a fuss…”

* * *

Passengers were in the cargo bay, picking up their luggage. Jackson was taking his things while eyeing his special box. Deaton searched through his satchel, until he found a wooden box. He handed it to Isaac.

Meanwhile, Stiles managed to trip on thin air, spilling his clothes out of his case.

Derek was up on the catwalk, looking down at the passengers, Isaac and Deaton next to him, chatting about something. He was disturbed by a hiss of the shuttle doors opening.

“Well,” Derek exclaimed, “if it isn’t our Ambassador, gracing us with her presence!”

“Hello, Derek,” she replied calmly. “I see we have new faces around here.”

“Hey you!” Isaac beamed. He was always happy to see her.

“Hey you,” she said back.

“So, Ambassador,” Derek continued, “this is Sheppard Deaton”.

Allison and Deaton looked each other out.

“This is the first time we’ve had a preacher on board,” Allison started.

“Well,” Deaton continued, “I wasn’t expecting to see a state official, either.”

Out of the sudden, Derek started laughing.

“I’m missing something funny,” Deaton found out a couple of moments later.

“It’s not _that_ funny,” Isaac implied, looking at Derek, disappointment obvious in his tone.

Allison explained: “’Ambassador’ is his way of saying tha-”

“She’s a whore, Sheppard,” Derek cut in.

Deaton was startled for a moment.

“The term is ‘Companion’” Isaac said, his tone still showing obvious negativity.

“Yeah,” Derek agreed, “but the job is whore.” Turning to Allison, he added: “How’s business?”

“None of yours,” she snapped back at him, but immediately schooled her features so she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of ‘winning’ an argument.

“She’s pretty much our ambassador,” Derek continued, turning back to Deaton. “There’s plenty of planets that won’t even let you dock without a decent Companion on board.” He did his best fake worried expression (which was obviously fake, by the way) before he asked: “Is this going to be a problem, or …?”

“Well,” Deaton started, “no, not really.”

“It’s alright,” Allison assured the Sheppard, “I mostly keep to myself.” Passing Derek, she added: “When I’m not whoring,” and walked back to her shuttle.

“Don’t you wanna meet the rest of the bunch?” Derek asked.

“Why don’t you make sure they want to meet me first?” Allison responded. She really knows how to turn words around.

“So,” Isaac joined Allison on their walk to her shuttle, “how many fell madly in love with you and wanted to take you away from all this?”

“Just the one,” she answered him. And in a joke, she added: “I think I’m slipping.”

* * *

At 1800, the passengers and the crew gathered in the dining room. Isaac helped Deaton make a salad with tomatoes, grilled up some vegetable roots and prepared pasta with protein turned into mush. To us it might not seem as much, but to them … This was a banquet.

Everyone helped themselves to food.

“This is incredible!” Boyd beamed, his mouth full of tomato salad.

“It’s nothing, really,” Deaton explained, “I had a garden back at Beacon Hills, thought I should bring what I could.”

“That’s very kind of you,” Stiles said, his mouth also full of the same salad.

“I’ll make a plate for Scott …” Isaac mumbled, preparing that said plate for him.

“It wouldn’t last,” Deaton continued, “and they’re never the same when they’re frozen. The important thing is the spices.” After looking around, he added: “A man can live on packaged food from here ‘till Judgement Day if he’s got enough marjoram.”

“Can you pass the tomatoes?” Dobson kindly asked Erica.

She did pass him, but only after taking some tomatoes for herself first.

“Captain, would you mind if I say grace?” Deaton asked.

“Only if you say it out loud,” Derek answered rudely.

Deaton was obviously startled by his answer for a moment, but then decided to lower his head in prayer, Isaac, Dobson and Erica following the lead. When it’s done, they continue with their meals.

“So, does it happen a lot?” Jackson asked out of the sudden. “Government commandeering your ship, telling you where to go?”

“That’s what governments are for,” Derek replied. “Getting in a man’s way.”

“But isn’t that a good thing, providing supplies to the ones they need?” Dobson asked. “Especially on border moons. I heard of plagues and famine on them.”

“Some of that is exaggerated,” Boyd answered, “some of it isn’t. All those moons are as close to Earth-That-Was as we could make ‘em, just like the central planets. But -”

“Once those planets are terraformed,” Derek cut in, continuing, “they’ll dump settlers on ‘em with nothing but blankets and hatchets, maybe even a herd. Some of them make it, others don’t.”

“Then I guess it’s good we’re helping,” Stiles concluded.

 “So, Jackson,” Isaac started after a few seconds, trying to break the silence, “ever been on any of the central planets?”

“I was born on Osiris, actually,” Jackson replied. “Spent most of my time in the Capital City.”

“Long way from there,” Derek pointed out.

“What’s your occupation?” Isaac asked Jackson. “I mean, if it’s no-”

“I never worked in my life,” he replied, not allowing him to finish the sentence. “My family owns a few local companies. What’s yours?”

“Mechanic,” Isaac answered. “You seem quite young to travel alone,” he added as an afterthought.

“Well, you seem quite young to be the ship’s mechanic,” Jackson replied.

“I always knew how to fix stuff,” Isaac explained, “even though I never had any kind of mechanical education.”

“Quite a rare gift you have there,” Deaton said.

“Why, thank you,” Isaac accepted the compliment. “This is why I like meeting new pe-”

“Would you just shut the fuck up!?” Erica snapped out of the sudden, making everyone at the table flinch a little. Boyd rolled his eyes in a ‘here we go again’ way, while Derek gave her the Eyebrow MovementTM no7 – the ‘you better listen now (you little shit!)’ one.

“Erica,” Derek ordered, “you’ll keep a civil tongue around this table or I will personally sew your mouth shut, _dong ma_?”

“You don’t pay me to talk pretty,” she replied harshly.

“Walk away from this table,” Derek ordered. “Right now.”

After a beat Erica stood up from the table, grabbed herself some more food on her plate and goes to her cabin.

Everyone is silent. Until …

“What do you pay her for?” Stiles asked after some time has passed.

“What?” Derek responded, obviously startled by the question.

“I was wondering what her job is,” he inquired. “On the ship.”

Derek was staring at him for a moment. _This kid, I swear_ , he thought to himself.

“Public relations.” That was all he could get out of himself in that particular moment.

* * *

Allison was in her shuttle, using a sponge to wash herself. In space, it’s really hard to find a shower, let alone a bath. Only rich people and ones on the core planets could afford them, but that doesn’t mean that people on border planets didn’t bathe. They could just as easily do it in a nearby river, lake, or even oceans and seas if they were around.

There was a knock on the shuttle’s door.

“ _Qing jin_ (Come in/Enter),” Allison spoke a bit louder.

It was the Sheppard. He entered, seeing her mostly facing away from him. He knows she can see him.

“Am I intruding?” Deaton asked her.

“Oh, no, not at all,” she replied, quickly drying herself up and putting her robe back on. “To be honest, I expected you.”

“Can’t really say the same,” he stated.

“Did you come here to lecture me on the wickedness of my ways?” she inquired.

“I only meant to bring you some supper,” he replied. “But if you prefer a lecture, I’ve got a few catchy ones. Sin and hellfire. One has lepers.”

“I think I’ll pass,” she responded. “But thank you for … Are those tomatoes?”

“Yes, they are.”

“It’s been ages since I’ve tasted them!” she beamed.

“Your Captain said you might like them,” he explained. “I was surprised at his concern.”

“For a lowly whore?” she asked.

She could easily see the clouding of his face when she’s said it.

“He shouldn’t have said that,” he stated.

“He doesn’t like pretension,” she explained. “But believe me, I’ve called him worse. Besides, I think he’s more interested in making you uncomfortable rather than making me.”

“He doesn’t seem like the one doing favors to his crew,” Deaton explained his observation, “yet he seems very protective of them. Like some sort of a wolf-pack.”

That makes her heart stop for a moment, but, since she’s a Companion, she didn’t let that show. She schooled her features before asking: “Why are you so interested in him?”

“Because he’s somewhat of a mystery to me,” he answered. “But why are you?”

Allison smiled, before replying: “Because very few men are.”

There was a couple of seconds’ worth of awkward silence, before Deaton stated: “Well, I better get going.” He stopped at the shuttle door, only to finish with: “Nice talking to you.”

“Anytime,” she said back, watching him leave her shuttle.

As soon as he left, she sat down on her bed. _Does he know?,_ she thought by herself. _How does he know?_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the cliffy!


	6. Derek's cabin, Camaro

Derek’s cabin is a tiny cell, just a bunk and a tiny fold-down desk. The room is a general mess; cluttered with junk.

He was splashing his face with water, when the com sounded.

_“Derek, you might wanna get up here …”_ Scott informed him.

As soon as he dried his face off, he went up the ladder to the foredeck hall. From there he turned himself to the cockpit and moved there.

Once there, he asked: “What is it?”

“It’s a signal,” Scott explained. “Somebody went on the Cortex and hailed the nearest Hunter Cruiser.”

“Tell me you’ve scrambled it,” Derek said, hints of worry evident.

“Only some of it,” he replied, “but I don’t know how much got through. Yet I’m sure the Hunters have a pin on us.”

“ _Ni ta me de. Tianxia suoyoude ren. Dou gaisi._ (Everyone under the heavens is going to die),” Derek hissed under his breath and stormed out to the cargo bay.

Scott finally figured out what it means. “We’ve got a mole on board!” he whispered to himself.

Apparently, Derek knew who the mole was.

* * *

Jackson was checking on his big metallic mystery box, when he was caught by Derek.

“Forgot your toothpaste?” Derek asked, before punching him right in the face. Jackson was sent sprawling to the ground. He then stood up, feeling his jaw in pain.

“Are you out of your mind!?” Jackson roared to the captain.

“Just about,” he answered. “What’d you tell ‘em?”

“Tell who?”

Derek pulls his gun out and points it at the young man.

“I’ve got no time for games,” Derek said in a dangerous tone. “What do they know?”

“You’re crazy!” he spat out.

“And you’re a gorramn fed!” Derek roared back.

“I hate to say it, captain,” Deaton intervened, “but you’ve got the wrong man.”

Both Derek and Jackson looked at him in confusion. They’ve both noticed his nod towards something over them. Slowly turning around, they understood why he nodded in that direction.

Dobson was holding a gun at them.

Derek cursed a “Why you son of a b-”

“Drop that gun, Captain Hale!” Dobson ordered.

After a beat, he dropped his gun while muttering “Worst day ever” under his breath.

Dobson now pointed his gun at Jackson, saying: “Jackson Whittemore, you’re bound by law to stand down.”

It takes a moment for Derek to realize that Dobson is after Jackson.

“You-wha-him? Oh!” he said when he finally found out. In a hopeful voice, he quickly added: “Is there a reward?”

Dobson ignores him and focuses on Jackson again.

“Get on the ground,” he ordered the younger man. “Get on the ground!”

“You’re making a mistake,” Jackson warned him.

“You better get on the ground,” Derek advised. “He seems a mite twitchy.”

“I think everyone could calm down for a bit,” Deaton stated, slowly moving towards the Hunter in hope of defusing the fight.

“None of your business, Druid!” Dobson warned. Needless to say, it confused Derek even more.

“The boy’s not going anywhere,” Deaton pointed out. “As I understand, it’s pretty cold outside.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Derek joined in. “We can hold him in a passenger cell – won’t make a sound till you hand him ove-”

“Get the hell away from the gun!” Dobson roared at him. “You think I’m a complete backbirth? You’re carrying a fugitive across interplanetary borders and you want me to believe that you’re carrying medical supplies to Whitefall? As far as I know, everyone’s a criminal on board.”

“Please,” Deaton warned, “we’re getting very close to true stupidity her-”

“I’ve got a cruiser en-route for intercept,” Dobson cut in, “so talk all you want. You’ve got about twenty minutes.”

“Less than that,” Derek mockingly pointed out.

“Yeah, threaten me …” Dobson dared Derek, pointing the gun towards him.

“For God’s sake,” Deaton huffed out before he walked towards the Hunter.

“You think I wouldn’t shoot a Druid?” Dobson warned threateningly. “Back off!”

And shit hits the fan. Derek grabs Jackson, everyone shouts at eachother until a gun has been fired. Everyone looked at themselves and, figuring out none of them have been shot, they looked around …

… only to see Isaac clutching a bloody hand over his abdomen. He slumps to the ground.

Now many things happen at once: Derek wolfs out, roars in rage and hits Dobson across his jaw, sending him to the ground, barely moving. Meanwhile, Deaton made a move towards Isaac while passing Boyd, and Erica, who was currently pointing her gun towards the fallen Hunter. Stiles was just standing there, open-mouthed at the events.

“Isaac!” Allison shouted from the catwalk, having heard the gunshot a few seconds ago. She raced towards him.

Derek, after seeing Dobson on the ground, unconscious, calmed himself down and regressed back to his human form. After doing so, he ran towards Isaac as well.

“Erica,” Derek ordered, “don’t shoot him! Just tie him up.”

A moment of consideration later, she put her gun back in her holster and moved around to find some duct tape.

As soon as Deaton got next to Isaac, he checked the wound. Stiles was already there, looking at him, not knowing what to do.

“Lie back,” Deaton told the wounded man. “How do you feel?”

“Lil’ odd,” he slurred out. “Why’d he …”

 Derek and Allison joined them as soon as they could.

“Put something under her head,” Deaton said to Allison, who in turn pulled her robe off and made a make-shift pillow out of it before placing it under Isaac’s head.

Derek looked at the wound more thoroughly, before sniffing at it. There was a smell to it that he more than recognized.

“Let’s get him to the infirmary,” Derek ordered. “Now!”

Boyd, Deaton, Stiles and Derek started to lift him up slowly, before moving him to the said infirmary.

Once they set Isaac on the operating table, Derek looked in the cabinets for wolfsbane. Meanwhile, Deaton searched for the tools. Once he found the tools he needed, he pulled the bullet out, much to Isaac’s discomfort.

Stiles and Allison were waiting outside the infirmary.

Luckily for Derek, he found a few scrapes of it. To his bad luck, though, he didn’t have a lighter of any sort.

“Here,” Deaton offered him a lighter. Derek was confused for a moment before accepting it.

Now he did what he had to do: he lit the wolfsbane on a small plate and held it in front of Isaac for him to inhale the fumes.

Isaac started shaking in shock after inhaling the fumes, which was normal for a werewolf. It functions like some form of detox, but no-one really knows why the only way to get wolfsbane out of the system is with more of it. It’s something like fighting fire with fire, don’t you think?

After shaking for a solid minute, he passed out. It means that it worked, but that he’ll be a little weak for a couple of hours. Everyone in the infirmary stepped out of it to give him some rest.

* * *

“How did you know?” Boyd later asked Deaton. To be completely honest, Derek wanted to ask him the same question.

“I know because I _am_ a Druid,” he answered, “and as such, I know a werewolf when I see one. Or in this case, a whole pack of ‘em. On a spaceship. That’s a first, to be honest.”

Stiles’s mind was mind-blown, if his face was anything to go by. Allison’s face was, meanwhile, one of a sudden realization, as if something clicked on the inside.

“So let me get this straight,” Derek inquired, “you lied about your ‘Sheppard-ness’.”

“Kind of hard to explain,” he admitted, “but for simplicity’s sake let’s just say no.”

_Ain’t_ that _just great_ , Derek thought by himself. _First Dobson, then Deaton. But what abo-?_

“Hang on, hang on,” Stiles spoke out of the sudden, stopping Derek’s train of thought. “You’re a werewolf,” he pointed at Derek, who in turn made his eyes glow for a moment, just to prove it, “and there’s a pack of you on this ship. You’re a Druid,” he moved his finger from Derek to Deaton, “that was posing to be a Sheppard. And you,” he now pointed towards Jackson accusatively “you’re prosecuted by Hunters!”

Everyone’s eyes were on him now. He noticed that no-one was denying anything. That makes it truth.

“Sorry, I just really want to know what’s going on,” he explained himself.

“Well then, why don’t we find out?” Derek suggested, moving towards cargo bay. There was only one thing that was of his interest there.

Jackson’s mystery box.

“What are you…?” Jackson asked as everyone walked with him. Only then it clicked him.

“No!” he shouted, running after them. He was about to stop Derek from getting to his box, when Boyd stopped him, holding him in place.

As Derek passed Erica, he asked her about Dobson.

“He’s secured,” she replied. “Deaton’s with him. Don’t know why he thinks he’s not safe alone with me.”

After thanking her, he pulled Jackson’s box to the center of the cargo bay. He turned a couple of dials and pulled a release lever, making the lid come slightly up with a hydraulic ‘whoosh’, dry ice pouring out the sides.

He could see that everyone was gathered, with exception of Isaac, Deaton and Dobson. Apparently, Scott put the ship on an auto-pilot, and was informed about Isaac’s condition, if the sight and smell of dried tears was anything to go by.

“Let’s see what’s inside, shall we?” Derek spoke with hints of theatricality, before kicking off the lid. It revealed a form of a naked girl, a teenager by the looks of it, in a fetal position.

The box was a cryo-chamber all this time.

Derek looked at the girl, then at Jackson, then back at the girl, before huffing out a “Huh.”

“I need to check her vitals,” Jackson said, anger and urgency of some sort clearly evident in his voice.

“Is that what they call it these days?” Derek asked sarcastically.

“She’s not supposed to wake up for another week! The shock coul-”

“The shock of what? Waking up? Finding out she’s been sold to some border-world baron? Or, I’m sorry – was this one for you? Is it true love? ‘Cause you seem lik-”

He was stopped by an inhumanly loud scream, coming from the box. The girl from it sat right up when she’s done it. As a werewolf your, hearing is more sensitive than one of the human. The scream alone is usually loud enough for humanity, but imagine what it would do to a werewolf. Standing right next to her.

She kept on screaming, yet no-one has done anything yet. Stepping out the box, she crawled backwards, breathing hard and looking around her wild-eyed.

“Oh my God,” Stiles croaked. There is no way he could ever forget “Lydia?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have you or have you not expected it?


	7. Dining room, Camaro

“Back on Persephone,” Stiles explained, for the whole crew to hear. “I was mostly known as the ‘sheriff’s kid’, but very few people knew that it was me who solved some of the toughest crimes our department has ever encountered. Some of the said few said that I was just very smart, but my dad always preferred the term ‘gifted’.”

He looked around, checking if everyone was still listening to him. Seeing that he still has their ears, he continued.

“Lydia Martin, the girl from the cryo-box, was my childhood friend. I was called gifted, while she was … A gift. I mean, everything she did – music, maths, theoretical physics, even dance – there was nothing she couldn’t do if she put her mind to it. I had a crush on her for a long time, but that doesn’t matter now.

She left Persephone as soon as she turned fourteen. She was accepted to the Medical Academy on Osiris, where she was the top three percent of the class for the two years she was studying there and finished her internship in three months. It normally takes four years of studying and a year of internship before anyone would even be considered a doctor. We kept in touch, though; sometimes sending a letter, other times a Wave.”

The thing about sending messages across universe is the fact that it depends on many forms of information transfer, such as lasers, magnets and radio waves. But the thing about matter traveling through space is that it will always take some time to get from point A to point B - longer the distance, longer the time for the said forms to travel. They usually solve the problem by pre-recording the message and sending it afterwards, also known as ‘sending a wave’.

“She mentioned,” Stiles continued, “in some of her Waves and letters that she was in a relationship with some guy, whom she presented as ‘J.W.’, which I believe it was you, Jackson. Am I right?”

Everyone turned to Jackson, waiting for his reply.

“Yes, you are,” he answered a bit warily.

“So you’ve known about the ‘Academy’?” Stiles asked him.

“Yes, I did,” Jackson replied. “She told me that she has discovered this ‘Academy’, that it offered more challenges to her than Osiris’ Medical Academy. When she got accepted, she promised to keep in touch, but a month after she got in, her messages just stopped coming. At first, I thought that she was just too busy, but one day, I received a letter that made no sense; talking about things that never happened and jokes we’ve never exchanged …”

“Actually,” Stiles pointed out, “I got a similar letter from her as well. Same thing; the jokes _and_ things that never happened.”

He waited for a few moments, before he added: “It was a code.”

If the puzzled look on some people’s faces was anything to go by, they were confused.

 “After spending a week on breaking it,” Stiles continued, “I finally managed to decipher it. It read: ‘Help! They’re hurting us! Get me out!’”

“It took you a week,” Jackson asked, “on your own?”

Stiles nodded in agreement, obviously very proud of himself.

“It took me two months, thousands of credits, and three people before we could get anything barely useful!” Jackson groaned out.

“That’s me,” Stiles said, slightly mockingly, “‘gifted’.”

Everyone looked at him, impressed at his genius. _I guess I underestimated him after all_ , Derek thought.

“But how did you do it?” Boyd asked out of curiosity. “The rescue, I mean.”

“Money, mostly,” Jackson admitted, “and lots of luck. There was nothing for a year, to be honest, but then I was contacted by some men from some underground movement. They told me that she was in danger, that the government was playing with her brain. If I founded them, they could sneak her out into a cryo-box and deliver her to Persephone. From there, I was meant to take her to Boros, and from there … Wherever.”

“How did you know it wasn’t a scam?” Derek asked. If someone knew about scams, it was definitely him.

“I didn’t,” Jackson replied. “At least not until you opened the box.”

“Will she be alright?” Allison inquired.

“She’s in a physical shock,” Jackson explained, “but it shouldn’t be anything too serious. I don’t know what they did to her, or why. I just have to keep her safe.”

There was a moment of silence.

“That’s quite a story,” Deaton spoke, breaking the silent moment.

“Yeah, it’s a tale of woe,” Derek sighed sarcastically, “very stirring. But in meantime, you’ve brought us a hella-lot-of-trouble on me and my pa- my crew.”

Jackson defended himself with: “But I never thought tha-”

“Of course you haven’t,” Derek cut in. “Because of you, we now have a Hunter in custody, his colleagues on our trail, and Isaac …”

He didn’t finish that sentence. Wolfsbane-coated/infused bullets are difficult to heal from if you were a werewolf. Basically, it slows down the healing process, so it’s somewhere around that of a human, but rarely going below that.

“How much do the Hunters know?” Boyd asked Scott.

“I can’t really say,” he replied. “I killed the message pretty quick, so they might have only our position.”

“Or,” Derek pointed out, “they might have personal profiles on every one of us, but we won’t know until Dobson wakes up.”

“So what do we do?” Erica asked.

Derek was quiet for a moment, thinking, looking at his crew. He decided to lock his eyes on Stiles while saying: “Our job. We finish our job.”

Now looking at his crew, he added: “I got word from Patience. She’s waiting for us.”

Boyd didn’t seem too pleased about this.

“We circle ‘round to Whitefall,” Derek continued, “make the deal, get out. Keep flying.”

“But what about us?” Jackson asked.

Derek looked at him for a moment, before answering: “If Isaac comes through, you and your girlfriend ’ll get off in Whitefall.”

“And if he doesn’t?”

“Then you’re getting off a bit sooner.”

“That would be murder,” Deaton pointed out.

“He made a decision,” Derek argued.

“It wasn’t him who shot Isaac!” Allison defended him.

“But someone on board this ship has,” Erica pointed out, “and I’m scratching my head as to why we haven’t dealt with him yet.”

“Seriously, Erica?” Boyd asked. “Killing a Hunter? Can you possibly think of anything dumber?”

“But he can I.D. us!” she defended herself.

“You wanna throw me out the airlock?” Jackson asked Derek, ignoring Erica and Boyd’s bickering. “Fine, but Lydia is not a part of this!”

“Can we, I don’t know,” Scott asked, “vote on this whole murdering issue?”

“We don’t vote on my ship,” Derek explained, “because my ship’s not a ruttin’ town hall!”

Allison was not pleased. “This is insanity, Derek!”

“I won’t sit by while there’s killing here,” Deaton stated.

“Be careful, everyone,” Erica pointed out mockingly, “our Druid here’s got a mean streak goin’ o-”

“ _Ta ma de! Nimen de bizui!_ (Everybody shut the hell up!)” Derek roared out, eyes flaring red for a moment.

Needless to say, it was effective; everyone did shut up.

“This is the way it’s going to be,” he continued. “We have to deal with what’s in front of us right now.”

“You know they wouldn’t survive a day on Whitefall!” Allison pointed out, approaching closer to Derek. She then threatened: “If you throw them out, I’ll leave!”

Derek gave her a furious look, but no red glow. He didn’t like to be publicly confronted.

“Might be for the best,” he replied, “since you’re not a part of this business, anyway.”

They stared at eachother for a few more moments, before they both walked out of the dining room, each in their own direction.

* * *

“What business is that, exactly?” Jackson asked Derek, following him right after the Companion’s confrontation.

The captain looked back at him with a murderous look, but Jackson didn’t back down.

“I’m a dead man, remember?” Jackson continued. “What is it? Gold? Drugs? Pirate treasure? Why do you fear the Hunters out of the sudden?”

“If I were you, I’d back off,” Derek warned.

“So, you’re not afraid of ‘em? I mean, I know already that you’d sell me out to them for a scratch behind your ears. Hell, you should be working for them; you certainly fit the profi-”

He never finished his sentence because Derek’s fist just smashed into Jackson’s jaw, sending him to the floor.

* * *

“How is she?” Jackson asked Deaton about Lydia. He was clutching at his own jaw, still hurting from the contact of Derek’s fist to it.

“Touch ‘n go, really,” the Druid answered him. “But I would like to pray for her. If that’s alright with you.”

“Of course,” Jackson replied to Deaton’s offer.

“She’s a very special girl,” Deaton added.

“Yeah, she is to me.”

“I hope you don’t mind me asking,” Deaton inquired, “but what made you choose this ship?”

“It looked disreputable.”

They smiled at that, though Jackson’s was a bleak one.

“Well, you’re not without critical judgment,” Deaton replied. “You didn’t happen to look at the name, I suppose?”

“Um, wha– ‘Camaro’, right?” Jackson asked. “It doesn’t mean anything.”

“I believe it does.”

“ _Duibuqi?_ (I’m sorry?)”

“Let’s just say that you don’t need the psychological insight,” Deaton replied. “Might be the historical one, instead.”

* * *

As soon as Jackson finished his conversation with the Druid, he made a bee-line to his room, where he opened a small notebook. It was basically a digital tablet, like we know  of today, but instead of USB ports, it had a hole in the spine of it, in which he was now fitting a plastic pointer. He waited for the screen to greet him with ‘Universal Encyclopedia’ on the screen.

Touching the ‘VOICE’ button, he said: “Camaro.”

The dictionary came up with a result: ‘Camaro, battle of’. Touching it, a paragraph and a couple of photos appeared on the screen.

“Read.”

After a couple of seconds, the encyclopedia being busy with conversion from letters to sounds, it started reading.

_In the war to unite the planets, the Battle of Camaro was among the most devastating and decisive. Located on Hera, the valley was considered a key position by both sides, and was bitterly fought over._

_The Independent Faction – Triskeliates, as they called themselves – were holding the valley against the Hunters with sixteen brigades and twenty air-tank squads for almost two months. They were finally defeated by superior numbers of Hunters and a brilliant strategy by General Richard Wil-_

“What does it say under ‘bloodbath’?”

Jackson turned off the book before turning around, seeing Derek leaning on his doorway.

He was about to excuse himself with: “I was just tryi-”

“We’re not in there,” Derek cut in. “We’re not the generals or diplomats, we didn’t turn the tide of the ‘glorious history’ or whatever have I just overheard.”

“Well, you know what they say,” Jackson added. “‘History is programmed by the winners’.”

“Nearly half a million people lay dead on that field,” Derek continued, “‘bout a third of ‘em ‘winners’. Can you imagine the smell? Can you imagine piling up the bodies of soldiers – of friends – to build a wall, just because you’ve got no other cover? Blood kept pouring out of them; you’d slip in it half the time, making bloodbath quite literal.”

“You were in that war, weren’t you?” Jackson concluded.

“With my uncle,” Derek continued. “I was a sergeant, and he was just a regular soldier. Originally, I was supposed to command about 150 Triskeliates. But five days in, there were so many officers dead, I was forced to command two thousand of ‘em. I kept us all together, fighting, sane. By the time the fighting was over, I had maybe four hundred Triskeliates left.”

“That’s a hell o-”

“I said the fighting was over,” Derek cut in. “Both sides left us there for a week, negotiating ‘peace’. Most of the soldiers were wounded, sick, and/or very close to actual insanity. Everyone kept on dying.

When they finally sent some Medships, my uncle was barely holding on. Scorched by a crashing skiff that I shot down, and exploded on impact. He was standing too close to that explosion. Only three hours later, he told me, wailing in agony, that he accidentally spilt some very flammable mixture on himself. That particular mixture was designed to stick on organic matter, and, if not scrubbed off immediately, it would take days before there would be nothing but harmless traces left.

After he was taken by a Medship, the only thing I could do was to wait. Few hours later, I was informed that he didn’t survive the burns.

At that time, I had about 150 Triskeliates still alive, and from my original platoon, only I survived.”

There was a long silent moment, before Derek continued.

“Mercy, forgiveness, trust, and family. Those are the things I left back there. What I have now is the ship, and my pa- my crew on it. If Isaac makes it through, I’ll forget that any of this ever happened. Besides, I won’t kill you unless I had no other option.”

Another moment of silence, only this time, it’s Jackson who breaks it.

“But if the battle was so horrible, then why have you named your ship after it?”

“Because,” Derek replied, “once you’ve been in Camaro, you never leave. You just have to learn how to live there.”

And on that bombshell, he left Jackson to his own devices.


	8. Bridge, Camaro

“How the hell did they find us?” Derek demanded as he stormed in the cockpit. Turning to Scott, who was sitting in the pilot’s seat, he added: “I thought you said we could get around ‘em.”

“It’s not the Hunters,” Scott explained.

“You sure?” Derek asked.

“It’s a smaller vessel.”

“Commercial?”

“Yeah, a Trans-U.”

“I didn’t know they still operated.”

“They don’t.”

“Get me a visual.”

“They’re a bit too far ou-”

“Get me _SOMETHING_!” Derek ordered. He could’ve done it without nearly shouting at him.

Scott flicked a couple of buttons and checked some other screens.

“I’m picking up a _lot_ of radiation. They’re burning without any core containment. That’s _kwongjuh duh_ (nuts). Suicidal, even. It’s like they are -”

“Rogues!” Derek cut in, realizing what’s approaching them.

A Rogue vessel.

By the looks of it, the Trans-U approaching used to be a commercial spaceliner of a sort, but now it looks like a war machine. Everything about it said ‘savage’; from giant torpedo-looking tubes that were jerry-rigged near the front to the exhaust that shouldn’t even be there in the first place.

Scott was cursing under his breath. Meanwhile, Derek started addressing everyone on board via radio.

“ _This is the captain speaking. We’re passing another ship. Rogues, by the looks of it, probably a raiding party. They could be heading somewhere particular, or they could’ve already hit someone and they’re full up. So I would like to ask everyone to stay calm. We’re holding course. They should pass us in a minute, we’ll see what they do._ ”

A second’s silence later, he added: “ _Boyd, come up to the bridge._ ”

Cargo hold

“Rogues?” Jackson asked.

“You’ve never heard of ‘em?” Stiles asked.

“I’ve heard of ‘em,” Jackson answered. “Campfire stories, mostly. Men gone savage at the edge of space, killing, an-”

“They’re not stories,” Deaton cut in, standing in front of the infirmary.

“So what happens if we’re boarded?” Jackson asked again.

“If they take the ship,” Deaton explained, “they’ll rape us, tear us apart, and eat us.”

“And, if we’re really, _really_ lucky,” Stiles added, “they’ll do it in that order.”

Bridge

Scott and Derek were looking out the window at the ship. Boyd joins them silently.

“Magnetic grappler,” Scott whispered. “They get a hold on us with tha-”

“Just tell me if they alter course!” Derek whispered back angrily.

They wait.

Everybody waits.

The ship passes silently, casting a shadow on Camaro.

“They’re holding course,” Scott informed. “They weren’t hungry, I guess. Didn’t expect to see ‘em all the way out here.”

“Pushing out further every year,” Boyd added his observation.

“Gettin’ awfully crowded in my sky,” Derek concluded, before hitting the com button, calling “Erica?”

* * *

A couple of minutes later, Derek and Erica were in Dobson’s room, looking at who else than at Dobson, tied to a chair. Not to mention gagged.

“I’m in a situation I think you’re aware of,” Derek explained to Dobson. “I’ve got a boatload of strange folk onboard, making my life a little more interesting than I generally like. Among ‘em a Hunter spy that likes to shoot innocent people when he’s nervous. Now, I need to know how close you guys are; how much do they know, how much have you managed to send before we scrambled your call. So I’ve given Erica here,” he pointed at her, “a job of finding out.”

Pulling out a big knife, Erica explained: “He was nonspecific specific as to how.”

“You know you only have to scare him, right?” Derek whispered to Erica.

“But pain _is_ scary,” she whispered back.

“Just do it right,” he whispered back at her, leaving the room.

Erica pulled the gag out of Dobson’s mouth. He dragged in some ragged breaths before he spoke.

“Do you have any idea how much trouble you’re in?”

“Gee, I’ve never been in trouble with the law before …” Erica replied mockingly.

“Not like this you haven’t,” Dobson pointed out. “You think this is just a smuggling rap? The package that boy is carryin-”

“It’s a girl,” Erica cut it. “She’s kinda cute, but I think she’s not all there,” doing a ‘cuckoo’ motion with her knife.

“That girl is precious commodity,” Dobson explained. “They’ll come after her. Long after you bury me, they’ll be coming.”

“I ain’t killin’ you, Dobson – what’s your first name?”

“Laurence.”

“Laurence, I’m just gonna cut you until you tell me everything.”

“They know everything,” Dobson explained. “Every name, record – even the number of your nosehairs.”

“Oh, I see,” Erica noticed, “they know nothing! It’s all over your face!” (it was actually the smell that gave it away) “I can’t even … You’re an officer of the law! Don’t they teach you how to withstand interrogation? You can’t even tell a lie!”

“I see you’re not stupid,” Dobson replied.

“Wish I could say the same, ‘Laurence’,” she replied back, “but this is disappointing as hell.”

“Then let me speak the language you understand,” Dobson continued. “Money. That girl’s worth a lot of money. A _lot_. You kill me, there’s nothing. But, you help me out, you’ll have enough money to buy your own ship. A better one than this clunker.”

“Does helping you mean turning on the captain?” Erica asked.

“Yes it does.”

Her eyes glowed yellow for a moment.

“Let’s talk money, Larry.”

* * *

In the infirmary, Isaac finally woke up, but he was still woozy.

“Hey there, Isaac,” Derek checked on him. “How are you doin’?”

“Shiny,” he replied, still woozy, but more silent than he’s used to. “A-okay. Can’t feel much. And I’m … it’s getting’ cold.”

Derek moved to get another blanket, laying it on him.

“You just have to rest,” Derek replied. “Something on this boat’s gonna break down anytime soon. Who else is gonna fix it?”

“Don’t worry, cap’n,” Isaac assured him. “Deaton fixed me up. He’s nice.”

“Best if you stop relying on him, _xiao di-di_ (little brother),” Derek explained. “He might not be with us for long.”

“You’re nice, too,” Isaac tried to comfort Derek.

“No, I’m not,” Derek replied. “I’m a meanie!”

“You’re a nice man, captain,” Isaac insisted. “You always look after us, but sometimes you … you’ve got to have faith in people.”

Derek says nothing, reaching for his hand and holding it.

Meanwhile, Isaac’s eyes drift to Lydia, who was still sleeping because of the sedatives.

“She’s a beauty, isn’t she?” Isaac asked, smiling, before he gently shut his eyes, his hand slipping out of Derek’s.

* * *

Jackson was in Allison’s shuttle, where he got a couple of packets from her.

“Thank you.”

“It’s just a standard Companion immunization package,” Allison replied. “I’m not sure it will be of any help.”

“It won’t hurt,” Jackson answered. “The supplies are pretty rudimentary down there.”

“Anything else I could do?”

“I don’t think so, but I appreciate it.”

“Isaac’s very dear. To all of us.”

“I’m sorry. For my part in this. I’ve never … I don’t know ho-”

“You’re lost in the woods,” Allison cut in. “We all are. Even the captain. The only difference is, he likes it that way.”

“No, it isn’t,” Derek said as he walked in the shuttle. “The difference is, the woods are the only place where I can see a clear path.” Turning to Jackson, he asked him: “What’s your business here?”

“It’s my business,” Allison answered instead. “The usual. I gave him a free thrust, since he’s not long for this world. What are you doing in my shuttle?”

“It’s my shuttle,” Derek explained. “You rent it.”

“Then when I’m behind on the rent,” she explained, “you can enter unasked.”

Jackson elbows his way out. For a moment, Derek and Allison look at eachother.

“I thought you were leaving,” Derek pointed out.

“I guess that depends on you,” Allison replied back.

On those words, Derek turned around and walked out of her shuttle.

* * *

“You’ll ruin her, too, you know,” Derek said as soon as he caught up with Jackson.

After Jackson turned, obviously interested in what the captain has to say, he continued.

“This is the thing I see you’re uncomprehending on. Everyone on this ship, even a ‘legitimate businesswoman’ like Allison, their lives can be snatched away because of that hunter. You got a solution for that? A way around?”

“I don’t,” Jackson replied.

 “When the time comes,” Derek continued, “someone’s gonna have to deal with him. That should be you, but I don’t think you have the guts, and I know you don’t have the time.”

That confused Jackson.

“What do you mean?”

“Isaac’s dead,” Derek stated coldly, seeming steely, and contained. Turning away and walking to the bridge, he left Jackson all by himself.

As soon as Derek was gone, Jackson starts in a daze for the infirmary, running. Once he got there, he found Isaac sitting up a bit, but happily talking about something with Deaton.

He couldn’t believe it.

“That son of a -”

* * *

The bridge was filled with laughter, coming from Derek, Scott, Boyd, and Erica.

“You son of a -” Scott tried to blurt out, but failed because he was laughing so much.

“You should’ve seen his face,” Derek said after everyone calmed down a bit. “I’m a really bad man.”

“Is Isaac really okay, though?” Scott asked.

“To tell you the truth, I didn’t expect him to heal this quick,” Derek admitted. “The Druid really knows his stuff, I’ll give him that much.”

There was a noise from a console, which Scott checks out immediately.

“We’re being hailed,” he explained.

“That would be Patience,” Derek figured. “We’re close enough for a video call. Put her up.”

The image of a weathered, pioneer-looking woman in her fifties appeared on the screen.

“ _Derek Hale,_ ” the woman said.

“Hello, Patience.”

“ _I have to say it, I didn’t expect to hear from you anytime soon._ ”

“Well, we might’ve not parted on the best of terms – you know, with certain words exchanged, also certain … bullets, but that’s air through the engine, that’s past. We’re business people. ‘Sides, your days of fighting over salvage rights are long behind from what I heard. Are you really a mayor?”

“ _Just about. You tellin’ the truth about the cargo? ‘Cause your asking price is a bit too reasonable for that much treasure._ ”

“It’s imprinted. Hunters. Hence the discount.”

“ _Government goods, eh?_ ”

“If it doesn’t work for you, no harm. I just thought you could us-”

“ _Hunters don’t scare me. Just collating data, as they say. I like you being up-front about this. We can deal. I’ll upload coordinates for a rendezvous point outside of town._ ”

“See you in the world.”

The screen went black. There is a lengthy pause, before Derek says: “She’s planning to shoot me again.”

“Well, if she _really_ meant to pay you,” Erica pointed out, “then she would’ve tried to haggle it down some.”

Another lengthy pause.

“We don’t have to deal with her,” Boyd suggested.

“Yes, we do,” Derek replied.

“I’ve thought of this very simple plan,” Erica cut in out of the sudden. “Why don’t _we_ shoot her _first_?”

“Because it _is_ her turn to shoot at him,” Scott explained.

“But that doesn’t get us what we need either,” Derek added.

“Yet do you know that there are moons on this belt that we haven’t seen before?” Boyd pointed out. “We could try our luck on one o-”

“Our _luck_?” Derek cut in. “Our _LUCK_!? Have you noticed anything particular about it in these last few days? Any kind of pattern? If you depend on luck, you end up drifting, with no fuel and prospects, begging for Hinter’s aid or being tossed at the scrap-belt. That’s not us. Not ever.

Now, Patience has the money to pay and we’ll make sure she will. One way or another.”

“I still say there’s gonna be guns involved,” Erica stated.

“Most likely,” Derek agreed with her on that. “And we’ll be ready for that. There are gonna be obstacles in our path, and we’ll deal with them. One by one.”


	9. Whitefall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy birthday to me (18 now on 29th of June)! Here's my birthday present to all of you.

Camaro was landing on Whitefall, somewhere among the rocks and sagebrush in a valley. Hills were everywhere you looked around.

After Camaro finally landed, the airlock door opened, and Derek and Boyd stepped out.

“Nice place for an ambush,” Boyd provided his observation.

“Why yes it is,” Derek agreed.

Erica arrived in a couple of seconds, saying: “I’ve buried ‘em well,” while tossing a bar to Derek. “Equipment’s back on the ship, by the way.”

The only thing she could do now was to check if her earpiece com-device was working.

“Testing, test – Captain, can you hear me?” she spoke out loud.

“Standing right here,” Derek replied.

“Coming through good and loud,” Erica concluded.

“You know he’s standing next to you, right?” Boyd pointed out.

“Yeah, but the transmitter …”

“Patience is going to figure we buried the cargo,” Derek cut in, “which means we should be at ease before there’s any action. She’ll come at us from East,” pointing towards it, “and try to talk the location of the cargo out of us. She’ll show us her money first. Once we give her the location, her snipers will hit us from there,” pointing towards the respective position, “and there,” pointing at some other position.

“You think they’re in place yet?” Erica asked.

“Should be,” Derek answered. “Feel like taking a walk in the park?”

She was obviously excited about that, her happy/mischievous grin present on her face. Derek knows that’s never good, so he added: “Walk soft. I want for Patience to think they’re in place. And don’t kill them if you don’t have to. We’re here to make a deal.”

With her smirk gone in an instant, she turned and walked off to one of the possible sniper locations.

“I don’t think it’s a good spot,” Boyd provided with his observation. “She’ll still have the advantage over us.”

“Everyone always does,” Derek replied. Turning towards him and putting on a smile, he added: “That’s what makes us special.”

Meanwhile, Passengers’ dorm, Camaro

Deaton stopped at the door to Dobson’s room, thinking whether he should warn him or not. Deciding on the former, he knocked.

“Lawman, it’s me, Deaton the Druid.”

The door opened.

“I believe you’re in more danger tha-”

His speech was stopped abruptly by a chair slamming into the Druid, knocking him out effectively. Dobson stepped out of his room/cell and checked if anyone heard. Satisfied with the fact that no-one seemed to have heard it, he punched Deaton in the face. Twice. For a good measure. Then, he dragged the unconscious man into his room/cell and left him there in a search for his suitcase.

Whitefall

Derek and Boyd were walking slowly across the valley when they both heard hoofs. It turns out that those hoofs belonged to Patience and her crew as soon as they could see each other. What the boys also noticed was a man riding a four-wheeler, almost like the one back on Camaro.  Together, there were six men in Patience’s group.

“Erica, you better come through …” Derek whispered for her to hear over the earpiece.

“Derek!” Patience exclaimed. “How’s it goin’?”

“Walking and talking,” Derek replied.

“Hello to you too, Boyd,” Patience added. “You’re still sailing with this man?”

“That’s an awful lot of men to haul three crates,” Boyd provided his observation.

“Well,” Patience tried to explain, “I couldn’t be sure that Derek here wasn’t looking for some kind of payback. You understand, right?”

“We’re just here for the job,” Derek stated. “I’m not interested in any surprises.”

Meanwhile, a bit to the side, Whitefall

A sniper was set to take a shot, but was disturbed by a sudden hit from the back. Once he was knocked out, Erica grabbed his riffle and aimed towards Derek. She gets a wicked-like smile on his face.

Camaro

Dobson busted in some other room, in which he immediately spotted his suitcase. Opening it, he dug in, grabbed a tiny computer and turned it on. The screen flickered to life, so he pressed the CONNECT TO CENTRAL CORTEX button. A couple of seconds later, the screen came up with INTERFERENCE: UNABLE TO CONNECT. Furious about it, he hurled it against the wall, smashing it in the process.

Now he reached in the bottom of his suitcase, from which he pulled out two guns.

Whitefall

“I don’t see my cargo anywhere …” Patience said.

“And you’re not gonna,” Derek explained, “not until I’m holding two hundred in platinum.”

“Oh, come on, Hale!” Patience exclaimed with disapproval. “Am I supposed to take it on your good faith that you’ve got the goods?”

Seeing her point, Derek tossed her the golden brick.

“It’s pure,” he assured her.

She ripped off the foil to reveal some sort of an energy bar, which she has just sniffed suspiciously.

“Genuine A-grade foodstuffs,” Derek continued. “Protein, vitamins, immunization supplements … One of those ’ll feed a family for a month. Longer, if they don’t like the kids much.” Obviously, the last one was added as a joke.

Patience took a bite.

“Yeah, that’s the stuff,” she confirmed, reaching for a small bag and tossing it to Derek. He reached into it and pulled out a silvery coin – platinum.

“So, where’s the rest?” she asked out of the sudden.

Camaro

In the infirmary, Lydia appeared to be awake for some time already. She was looking around the room, and even inspected Isaac for a while, but all this time, she was quiet.

At least until she said “Jackson” and looked worriedly at the door.

“What’s wrong?” Isaac asked, but she didn’t answer. Instead, she went for the door when Dobson grabbed her and stuck a gun to her head.

“Look at you,” he said, “all awake.”

When he saw Isaac trying to move, Dobson pulled out a second gun, pointed it at him and spoke: “I’m sorry about what happened before, but make as much as a sound, and the next one goes through your throat.”

Isaac was looking at him with genuine horror, as Lydia was pulled towards the dorm.

Whitefall

“Then half a mile east, foot of the first hill,” Derek provided with the instructions. “You’ll see where has it been dug.”

“Reckon I will,” Patience agreed.

“Well then.”

“Yep.”

Awkward silence.

“I’d appreciate it if you all would turn around and ride out first.” Derek stated.

“Yeah, well …” Patience started, “See, there’s this kind of a hitch.”

“We both made out on this deal,” Derek warned. “Don’t’ complicate things.”

“I have a rule,” she replied coldly. “I never let go of money I don’t have to. Which is maybe why I’m running this little world and you’re still in that scrap you call a ship, sniffing for scraps.”

Derek tossed the money back to her.

“You’ve got the money back,” he explained. “There’s no need for killin’.”

“Are we just going to walk away?” Boyd asked.

“I guess that’s up to Patience here.” Looking at her, he added: “Could be messy.”

“Not terribly,” she replied. “Oh, Derek … You’re not very bright, are you?”

Looking at the men, Derek noticed one of them, wearing a shiny hat and carrying a fine rifle.

“That’s quite a rifle you’ve got there,” Derek pointed at it. “He must be your best shot if he’s carrying that,” he added, turning a Patience.

“He’s called Two-Fry,” she explained. “Always makes it quick and clean.”

“Two-Fry,” Derek repeated. “Nice hat.”

And Two-Fry is blown away by a gunshot out of nowhere (at least according to Patience’s crew - but it’s really Erica).

Many thing happen at once.

Derek draws out his gun and nails a second man, while Boyd shot down the one on the four-wheeler. After that, Boyd got shot by one of the crew, and he was sent flying backwards. Derek shot that very same guy, but only once he got some sufficient cover provided by some nearby bushes.

Camaro

“Should think about asking Derek to drop you somewhere else,” Scott provided his suggestion while sitting in the pilot’s eat and checking the measurements. “Whitefall is not exactly a civilization in its strictest sense …” he continued, but had no idea how to continue from there.

“You don’t have to worry about me,” Jackson assured him.

“Derek, Boyd, and Erica are out on a deal,” Scott tried to explain. “I always worry. So it’s not out of my wa-”

“ _He took her,_ ” Isaac‘s voice came from the com, a weak whisper. But that didn’t stop Jackson from bolting out of the cockpit. Scott was about to do it too, but then he heard a beeping – a proximity warning.

Looking at the screen, he just couldn’t believe it.

“Oh, don’t …” he whispered to himself. “Don’t you dare …”

Jackson, meanwhile, ran all the way to cargo bay, only to see Dobson with Lydia, gripping her and looking around himself, before heading towards the airlock.

At that moment, Jackson jumped and landed on Dobson, sending them both to the ground, unable to get up from the pain. The gun skittered far enough that Dobson couldn’t reach it.

A bit to the side, Whitefall

Erica tried her best to shoot, but everyone was moving too much. “ _Hun dan!_ (Damn it!)”

Whitefall

Patience dismounted her horse and shot around from behind it. Derek was still exchanging bullets with some other guy. The last man cowered and rode away on his horse in panic.

Boyd, who was still on the ground, lifted his gun and shot the running man in the back, who fell off his horse. That only left Patience and one other man from her crew.

Derek was shot in the shoulder, which in turn made him madder, his red eyes flashing out. He aimed and he finally managed to shoot the other guy in his hip. The guy fell on the ground and started screaming in pain.

That only left Derek with checking on Boyd.

“Boyd?”

“I’m okay,” he replied, “just a dented armor.”

“Well, you were right about this being a bad idea,” Derek admitted.

“Thanks,” Boyd replied sarcastically.

Now, Derek started walking towards Patience who only said: “Derek, don’t you dare make another ste-” in warning until Derek aimed and shot the horse. The horse collapsed on top of her and effectively pinned her down. But the only thing she had to worry about now was the gun that Derek pointed at her face.

“I did a job,” he started. “I got nothing but trouble since I did it. Not to mention more than a few unkind words as regards to my character, so let me make this _abundantly_ clear. I do the job,” he now reached for the money pouch and jingled it in front of her face, “and then I get paid.”

Now he moved the gun from her face and ended their conversation with: “Go run your little world.”

Erica just ran at him at that moment before she blurted out: “Derek! It’s Scott! A ship coming in. We were followed. Rogues.”


	10. Cargo bay, Camaro

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've got a couple of apologies, good news and some questions.
> 
> Apology no. 1. : To my beta reader Anny (or is it Annie?), for I haven't sent this chapter for you to beta-proof it.
> 
> Apology no. 2. : To everyone who will expect the next chapter next week: I'll be going on my holidays on June 5th and won't return 'till June 13th. The place that I'm going to has no internet connection, so I won't be able to post the next chapter.
> 
> Good news: The next chapter will be the final chapter of this part. Yay!
> 
> Questions:
> 
> 1\. Any ideas on what to rename my work (the current one is more of a working title)?
> 
> 2\. Any extra tags I should add (I don't believe that one tag is sufficient)?
> 
> 3\. Scott/Isaac sex scene in the next/final chapter; yes or no? Why (optional)?
> 
> 4\. Any idea, suggestion, compliment, critique, ... please? I'd like to know if there's anything to improve.
> 
> I'd appreciate your patience and understanding until then.

Dobson lunged for his gun, but failed because Jackson’s weight pressed on him as he also dived for it. They struggled for it before Dobson managed to free his elbow from Jackson and hit him in the face with it. With Jackson on the ground, he managed to crawl all the way to the gun, but Jackson managed to get his hands on the other one first and aimed towards Dobson.

“Don’t move!” Jackson ordered as his aim tightened on Dobson.

“ _Rogues!_ ” Scott exclaimed through the com. “ _Rogues incoming and heading straight for us. We’re in the air in one minute._ ”

That made Allison stumble out of her chamber and overlooking the action that was happening bellow from the catwalk. Stiles, who shared a quick glance with her, was already there for some time. Deaton was barely conscious and barely standing up, but nonetheless present.

Jackson was still holding the gun, aimed at Dobson. The hand was shaking.

“You really going to do that?” Dobson asked. “Would you really kill a man of law in cold blood? I know what you did for your sister, and I understand. It doesn’t make you a killer.”

Dobson noticed now that they’re being watched.

“I don’t wanna hurt anyone,” he tried to explain. “I’ve got a job to do – to uphold the law. That’s what we’re talking about here. Besides, there’s nowhere you can take her that the law won’t find. Nobody’s gonna hurt her … unless you hurt m-”

“I said don’t move!” Jackson roared in warning.

“It’s your call,” Dobson added.

Jackson didn’t know what to do. He looked at Lydia, who was still, in some sort of shock.

Bridge

Scott was freaking out more and more as the Rogue ship broke atmo and took a course for them.

“Come on, come on, …” he repeated to himself like some sort of mantra, before he grabbed a com and shouted in one hell of a “Where the hell are you guys!”

Whitefall

Derek, Boyd and Erica were each riding their own horse and were going as fast as they could. Lucky for them, they got to the ship right on time, as the airlock opened. They all dismounted their horses and walked in.

Cargo bay

The opening of the airlock distracted Jackson for long enough for Dobson to take advantage of the situation. He grabbed the gun and fired, only to miss Jackson as he dived for the cover. The lawman grabbed Lydia and pointed a gun to her head.

“I’m not playing anymore,” he warned everyone.

And as if on cue, Derek walked in. On his face, there was an Eyebrow Movement No1 present on his face – the ‘I’m so done with this shit!’ one. He was walking straight towards Dobson.

Dobson was about to warn him with “Anybody makes as much as a -” but failed because Derek shot him in the eye. He flew back, let go of Lydia and fell on the ground, not moving.

“Scott!” Derek shouted. “We’re on!”

Now, Derek pulled the lawman’s body out the airlock just as Boyd and Erica entered, never minding the body that was carried out.

Jackson, meanwhile, moved to Lydia, both in shock of the current events.

The ship took off in record time.

* * *

Derek, Boyd and Erica made it to the bridge, where they saw Scott piloting the ship and Allison hanging in the back.

“How close are they?” Derek asked.

“About twenty seconds from spitting distance,” came the reply from Scott.

“Well, lose ‘em!” Erica almost yelled at him.

“Boyd, show me the rear view,” Derek ordered.

Boyd punched a couple of buttons on the panel. In return, a view of the rear of the ship was visible. And with it, the Rogue ship.

Scott was doing his best to avoid the Rogue vessel, and so far, so good.

Yet now, he had an idea.

“I need Isaac in the engine room.”

Boyd sent a questioning glance towards the captain, who in turn nodded. He then turned to Erica and ordered her to get Isaac there.

After Erica left, Boyd asked Scott: “Can we lose ‘em?”

But Scott never answered. He was flying.

Derek walked to Allison, who was standing just outside the bridge.

“I want you to get in your shuttle,” Derek stated. “Get the civilians and be ready to go.”

“We can’t just leave you here,” Allison argued.

“Thought that was the plan,” he replied back.

She really didn’t like the sound of that. “Derek, don-”

“We get boarded, you take off and head for the closest town,” Derek cut in. “We might be able to stop ‘em from following.”

“But they’ll kill you!”

“Allison.”

The way he said it sent chills down her spine. With such calmness and detriment, it really made her think why was he acting like a martyr.

“Just … go,” was what Derek ended their conversation with, turning back towards the bridge. Allison did as she was told, but glanced back at her captain as she walked away.

“How are we doing?” Derek asked Scott.

“I don’t want to alarm anyone,” Scott started, “but I think we’re being followed.”

* * *

Allison reached the infirmary. She saw how Erica tried to carry Isaac out by herself, and so far, she was doing quite well. In the infirmary, she also spotted Jackson, Lyida, Stiles and Deaton.

“All of you,” she spoke. “Come with me.”

“I think I can help Isaac out,” Deaton offered. Turning to Jackson, he added: “Go. Keep yourselves safe.”

Allison and Deaton shared a glance before they went separate ways.

* * *

“You want me to go for full burn, Scotty?” Isaac asked. He was propped in a corner of the engine room and was still a bit woozy from wolfsbane. Deaton assured him that the condition would last for an hour and that after it he should be back to normal. Speaking of whom; he was present, along with Erica, who was kind enough to carry him from the infirmary to the engine room. She could’ve easily carried him without the werewolf-super-strength.

“ _Not just yet, but set it up._ ” Scott replied via radio.

That left Isaac with one thing now.

“Do you know where the press regulator is?”

Erica and Deaton were both looking around. It was the Druid who found it first by opening the panel.

“Head of the class,” Isaac smiled, which in turn made him wince and cough in pain. He did notice that it didn’t hurt him as much as before. He was healing.

Bridge

“Full burn in atmo?” Boyd asked. “Won’t that cause a blowback? Or burn us out?”

“Even if it doesn’t, they can push just as hard and keep right on us,” Derek replied. “Scott, give me the Ivan.”

“I’ll see what I can do …” Scott replied and picked up his com. “Isaac, how would you feel about pulling a Crazy Ivan?”

Engine room

“Always wanted to try one,” he answered. “Erica,” he started on orders, “Open the port jet control and cut the hydraulics.”

Erica started looking around. “Where the he-”

“Look,” Isaac stopped her for a moment. “Look where I’m pointing.”

She walked in that direction and opened a panel that was near the floor.

“Okay, now this is gonna be real simple,” he started on instructions.

But what Erica saw was far from simple. Looking at the tangled mess of cables, she thought ‘ _real simple, my ass_ ’.

Bridge

“Isaac?” Scott asked via radio. “You guys all set?”

A couple of moments of radio silence.

“ _All set!_ ” Isaac announced.

“Everyone hold on to something,” Scott warned everyone. Dropping the mic, he added to himself: “Here’s something you can’t do, you Rogue scum!”

Slamming down a lever, the port jet flip turned, which in turn, made the whole ship spin for 180 degrees; they turned around and were flying towards the Rogue vessel. Dodging it the last second, he shouted “Now,” which meant …

Engine room

… for Deaton to hit a big button with the heel of his hand. The bug-butt of the ship blasted with the fiery ripples and it pushed the Firefly out to space in one piece.

The adrenaline rush was so strong for Isaac that he managed to heal completely, leaving no visible scar or anything behind. Standing up, he walked to the engine and petted it.

“That’s my girl,” he said. “That’s my good girl.”

Now, he walked out of the engine room and made for the bridge.

Bridge

Everyone was happy and rejoicing at the successful outmaneuvering of the Rogue ship.

“We should have just enough fuel to hit a fuel station,” Scott informed Derek. “We’ll need to do some patching up. Did we get paid today?”

“Yes we did,” Derek assured him.

Now, Isaac rushed in and hugged Scott from behind. Scott managed to turn around and kissed him. In turn, Isaac kissed him back just as passionately. Breaking the kiss, Isaac asked: “Could any of you take over the helm? I need to take this man here with me.”

He didn’t wait for response. He grabbed Scott by his hand and led them to their room. While leading the way, he added: “You can rip off my clothes, if you’d like.”

And didn’t that just turn him on more.  


	11. Scott and Isaac's cabin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is the final chapter of TeenFly 01- Camaro. Like you guys chose, there's a Scisaac scene in here. It's basically my first attempt at writing gay porn. How good/bad do you think it is?
> 
> Denelian, I owe you two explanations if I'm not mistaken. The 'why didn't Stiles try to save Lydia' one is explained in this chapter.
> 
> Also, an explanation to your who-is-who: Derek is Mal, Boyd is Zoe, Erica is Jayne, Scott is Wash, Isaac is Kaylee, Allison is Inara, Deaton is Book, Jackson is Simon, Lydia is River, and Stiles has no attribution, but was originally meant to be in place of Dobson. Then, of course, I've changed it.
> 
> I would like you to know, however, that not every character will do their part (such as Stiles doing Zoe's lines instead of Boyd), because I believe it would fit in better that way.

Scott literally threw Isaac on their bed and continued with their make-out session, but not for long, as he sprang out his claws and shredded Isaac’s clothes off of him. Even though that move made small cuts on Isaac’s skin, neither of them minded them much as they healed pretty fast. Isaac, however, always enjoyed it, but only when it was Scott who makes them.

Now, Scott had the full view of Isaac’s naked body; his soft skin looking irresistible, the muscles beneath nicely visible. He was sprawled there beneath him, but still managed to look like a Greek god. He doesn’t even know how does he always do it, but he would guess that his blond curls have something to do with it.

Scott leaned in to kiss him again while trying to undress himself. They only broke their kissing so Scott could pull his shirt off. Once they were both naked, Scott started nuzzling his neck, licking at it and smelling the familiar scent that is Isaac. The sounds Isaac was making were the ones of pleasure.

Reaching for the nearby cupboard, Scott pulled out a condom and some lube. He pulled away from Isaac, only to apply some lube on his anus. After that, he slowly shoved in a finger to prepare Isaac for anal sex. Speaking of whom, his sounds were turning almost pornographic.

Once Scott was sure that Isaac could be comfortably stretched, he added a second finger and started scissoring him. It got interesting when the third finger was involved, and when one of those fingers brushed against Isaac’s prostate. He yelped in pleasure, begging Scott to do it again. He thankfully obliged.

Scott pulled his fingers out, making Isaac feel suddenly empty. He whimpered, as he just got used to them, but was immediately stopped by Scott, who aligned his cock against Isaac’s entrance. Slowly pushing in, Scott enjoyed the tightness that was Isaac, and Isaac enjoyed the hardness that was Scott.

At first, Scott just slid in and waited for Isaac to adjust. Once confident enough, he started slowly backing out, only to slowly shove in again and repeating the motion. Picking up the pace they’re both comfortable with, Scot grabbed Isaac’s cock and started jerking it in sync with his thrusts.

It wasn’t really a surprise that Isaac couldn’t last long. He came all over his abs, chest and Scott’s hand. But Scott wasn’t also far behind, as he pulled out, pulled off the condom and shot all over Isaac. After he came from his high, he licked off the cum on Isaac and enjoyed the taste of them. Once he licked off the cum on Isaac’s chest, he brought Isaac in a kiss. Isaac could now taste them both as well. And he liked it.

Catwalk

Stiles was sitting on the catwalk that overlooked the cargo bay, staring into nothing. He was in a deep thought.

“I could’ve saved her,” he mumbled to himself.

“Could’ve saved whom?”

Stiles almost had a heart attack, flailing in the most un-elegant way possible.

“Jesus, Derek, you scared me!” he yelled at the man. “You can’t just sneak up at people!”

“I was standing here for a couple of minutes,” Derek explained, “so I don’t think that counts as sneaking up on people.”

Stiles just glared at him.

“Who could you have saved?” Derek sort-of repeated the question.

Stiles took in a long breath. Derek could smell disappointment, and maybe traces of worry.

“I could’ve saved Lydia.”

Now, the smell of sadness joined in as well.

“It took me a week to solve her riddle,” Stiles continued, “but it took me a year to convince my dad into my theory. At first, he thought I just missed her terribly – which I don’t deny – and shrugged it off as her being too busy with school work to reply to my mail.

Six months later, he thought I was going insane. I even landed in a prison, out of which he bailed me out. He warned me, however, that if I landed in a prison again, that he wouldn’t be there to bail me out.

Almost a year after her disappearance I was contacted by a group of people, who were probably the same group that Jackson mentioned. Same things, really; explaining the situation, telling us of the government’s shady works, the money … Everything.

After I finally managed to convince my dad, he helped me with everything. He even helped me pick a ship. Your ship. Because, that there on Persephone, that was me ready to save Lydia. I had everything planned out – people, money, resources … The works!

But no, it just had to be Jackson who saved her. I mean, I’m glad that she’s saved, you know, but _I_ wanted to save her.”

Derek could now smell the salty smell of tears that were brimming in Stiles’ eyes. Before he knew it, he pulled him in a hug and tried to calm him down.

Yet it was then and there that he felt it. His mother always told him that it’s going to happen to him one day. As a werewolf, he’s more sensitive to it, so both his human and wolf would feel it.

The bond. The mate bond.

If the smell of Stiles was anything to go by, he didn’t know about the bond. But he was content, and he felt safe. That was all that mattered.

“What are you going to do about us?” Stiles asked out of the sudden.

“About whom?”

“About us, the passengers? Are you going to throw us out?”

Derek couldn’t believe what he just heard.

“I won’t,” Derek tried to explain. “I’ll keep all of you. I’ll keep Deaton because I could use a medic on board. Jackson and Lydia as well, since they’re running from the law. But I’m not sure what use this crew will have of you.”

“I can help cooking,” Stiles offered.

“I think Deaton and Isaac would be the best fit for that position,” Derek explained.

“I could try piloting.”

“You can barely keep your feet on the ground. No way am I letting you near the bridge. Besides, Scott is a _great_ pilot.”

“Maybe I can help you planning your crime.”

“We already have the whole crew for that.”

“I’m the sheriff’s kid,” Stiles tried. “I know all the tricks in the book.”

“Still not convinced.”

 “Then let me ask you this: do you have anyone on board who can do _all_ of those things?”

Derek thought about that for a while, before answering with an insecure “No?”

“Then it’s settled,” Stiles grinned and stood up before continuing with: “I’m looking forward to being a member of your crew. Now if you excuse me, I have to send my dad a Wave. Do you know if the Cortex happens to be back online?”

“It should be.”

“Then I’ll Wave him right now. Nice talking to you.”

And on those words, Stiles turns and walks to the closest Cortex terminal, leaving a dumbstruck-looking Derek on the catwalk.

 _How the hell is_ he _my mate?_ Derek thought. _Of all the people, why him?_


End file.
